We’ve been driving all morning, and everyone is hungry now. The day’s turning out to be a hot one (not an unusual thing for Costa Rica in February, which is midsummer in this part of the world) and it’s time to stop, fill our stomachs and glug back a litre or so of something cool and refreshing…
I’m not expecting a motorway/freeway service station like in the UK – no motorways in Costa Rica outside of its capital city, for starters – but the wooden shack we park outside looks nothing like any roadside diner I’ve ever seen. Are we having lunch with a family friend? Is this a takeaway kiosk? Nope – we’re ushered out of the car and inside.
The tables are covered with plastic tablecloths, the chairs are the old plastic kind that make ominous cracking noises when you sit in them, and the whole place looks simultaneously just-thrown-together and at least half a century old. Are we sure we’re in the right place? I’m told we are – and that I’m about to sample the classic Costa Rican breakfast, which expat Costa Ricans the world over get all misty-eyed about when they remember the taste of it.
There are staple foods across the world that characterize entire cultures, and I’m about to taste one of them: an example of one of the most important combo foods eaten around the world, and one of the great delicious powerhouses upon which civilizations have grown and empires have been built.
Okay. Because I’ve hyped this up somewhat, you’re now expecting something dramatic, exotic, spectacular? Well – prepare yourself. I’m talking about…rice and beans.
No, come back. I’m serious. These are two highly nutritious ingredients consumed widely across the globe – over 50% of the world’s population relies on rice in their daily diet alone. You know many examples: in fresh sushi in Japan, Jollof rice from West Africa, Indian Biryani, Spanish paella, Feijoada in Brazil – or a traditional gallo pinto from Central America, best known as a staple part of the Nicaraguan and Costa Rican cuisine.
What is gallo pinto? If you’re a speaker of Spanish, its direct translation (“spotted rooster” is close enough) holds no clues for you, but when you see it, you’ll think of chilli con carne. It’s an unprepossessing mixture of white rice and black beans, each cooked separately with herbs and spices and then brought together into a rich, filling mix you’ll mostly see at breakfast. Both countries have a similar way of preparing – but a Costa Rican gallo pinto is seasoned with a national sauce called Salsa Lizano, and this is where you’ll see Costa Ricans elsewhere in the world getting all nostalgic for the taste of their homeland.
The gallo pinto (spotted rooster)
In 1920, a bar owner in the Costa Rican province of Alajuela called called Prospero Jimenez decided to make a homemade vegetable vinaigrette that could infuse his dishes a unique and unrepeatable flavour – something slightly spicy but sweet too, with a tangy, acidic aftertaste.
His customers loved it. His neighbours loved it. Everyone went quietly nuts over it. Then loudly nuts! More and more people requested a supply of it, turning up with containers to carry away bulk quantities of it for their home cooking. Demand became impossible to meet at his current scale of preparation.
Not long after that, Mr. Jimenez approached a nearby factory owned by Mr. Prospero Lizano, to bottle his sauce into a form that could reach supermarket shelves all over the country. Together, they created the brand, and Salsa Lizano was officially born in 1921.
This is Costa Rica’s ketchup, or Worcester sauce, or maple syrup (maybe that’s a confusing stretch, but my point is: what’s the condiment that makes you feel at home, no matter where you are in the world?). It’s what you’ll find on the table at pretty much every Costa Rican meal, and the first thing you should try, since you’re probably going to be tasting a lot of it. Lizano’s taste – richer and denser than some table sauces you may be used to, but not quite as bonfire-smoky as Worcester sauce – requires a bit of adjustment if you like your sauces sweeter and less robust, but once you’re prepared for it, you’ll probably be hooked. (This can quickly become a tragedy, as it’s pretty difficult to find outside of Costa Rica.)
Salsa Lizano is dripped, squirted or poured into many Costa Rican dishes,, but for some reason it’s mostly associated with gallo pinto, in much the same way we Brits couldn’t have our classic delicious greasy mess of fried breakfast without a dollop of ketchup on the side.
Usually served for breakfast, gallo pinto generally comes with a side of fried or scrambled eggs, a slice of local fresh cheese and a few pieces of cooked sweet plantain. Everyone agrees that just like soups or curries elsewhere in the world, it’s best cooked the day before and put aside to let the flavours reach every corner of the dish.
When my plate arrives, I’m a little taken aback. I haven’t ever had rice and beans for breakfast, even when I was a student and prone to eating whatever was in the fridge from the night before, so it takes me back a little. The fried cheese is delicious, the egg is of course egg (you can’t go wrong with egg for breakfast) and the slices of plantain are fantastic. But I just kind of poke at my gallo pinto for a minute or two. It feels like too much of a challenge, somehow.
FInally, I pluck up the courage to fork some into my cakehole.
Putting aside the acquired taste, there are, broadly speaking, two different reasons Costa Ricans love gallo pinto. First is what it reminds them of: a hearty dish that was eaten in the countryside and echoes the diet of pre-colonial times, from simple and easy to grow crops that sustained farm workers and their families all year round. It’s about national pride, as Costa RIcan as pura vida (which I previously wrote about here).
But it’s also about filling your stomach with something that won’t make you feel leaden and a bit sick for hours afterwards. However much the British love their fry-ups, the dry-ups definitely don’t love us back – unless you have the constitution of an ox, you’ll be staggering around like you’re wearing weighted diving boots until well after lunchtime. But gallo pinto, while just as filling, doesn’t do any of that. You can fill your boots and get a proper breakfast refuel from it – but somehow, it leaves you mobile and brimming with energy, ready to face the day.
That’s what I feel after breakfast. It’s like the first time I had sushi: wow, my stomach’s full but I don’t feel like I need a nap. This is the gift of gallo pinto – well, that and the taste, because it is indeed absolutely scrumptious.