My Chilean "family" sells alfajores. These are the most delicious cookie-pastries ever conceived of, in my vague and unbiased opinion. It is precisely because you have to think of them as both cookies and pastries that they blow the competition out of the water. For information, here is a nice site with a recipe that doesn´t look very interesting, but a nice history first: Diana´s Desserts. And of course Wikipedia, which prefers the Peruvian alfajore, which of course is just nonsense (jaja). My family makes the dark version, in that there is dulce de leche in between two cookies, and then the whole shebang is coated in chocolate. These ingredients are home-made, folks. I'll be coming home with a whole new wardrobe, ahem, ahem.
In any event. This evening a strange occurence has been visited upon me. The family disappeared. Not so much disappeared as went out, but it might as well be the same thing. In two months here, I have never once been the only person in the apartment. The mamá and papá of the house are retired, so mostly home during the day. The daughter works like a madwoman, so she is mostly home at night. There are two other Chilean girls, one a journalist and the other a student, who live here, and they come and go. So, in general, there are at least two people besides myself here at any given time. And then...this evening...I looked up from my book, and, no one!
Now, I looked up from my book not out of idle curiousity but because the doorbell was being leaned on. What the...should I.....is there.....?! By the time I figured out that the gringa really was in charge, it was too late.
The next time, I was alert, but confounded. The doorbell rang. Twice. In less than a minute (showing my host papá's diligence in comparison to my slackness). I made it around the hall to the front door to find it...deadbolted. I fumbled around. No turn-knobs, no switches, no levers. Outside, someone heard me mucking around and wailed, ¡Por favor! ¡Tengo un clase de niños!
Finally I realized that I needed my key and ran back to my room, but when I got back to the door I had missed the boat again.
Damn. I've only been in charge once, and here I am with two missed sales. I consoled myself because there were only seven alfajores left, anyway.
Anyway, I recovered, and the next time the doorbell buzzed, up like a shot with keys in hand. And wouldn't you know it, over the next hour I sold the rest of the cookie-pastries to a series of teenagers on their way out for the night.
So! A rocky start, but in the end I can face the family (whew).
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