On Saturdays, futebol/playdate/sleepovers permitting, we get up early and go to CEASA, an open air farmers' market, along with most of the population of Brasilia (excluding those from our neighborhood who are just getting into bed after a night of partying). The prices are great, the food is fresh, the sellers are wonderful and patient with our crappy portuguese. We try to drag Jack with us to help with the language. We generally end up buying way more than we need because everything looks so good.
What a couple of nuts.
Watch this video on How to Peel Garlic. If you want to, I mean. But you know you want to.
açúcar, am I right?
Spotted: the elusive American teenager picking out figs and starfruit (you guys, I totally made an awesome chicken dish with those figs).
We go to other stores for non-perishables. There are a few things that they don't sell here. Most of it I can get online or do without. I've learned to make bagels for the kids and you can buy cream cheese, so they're set.
Maple syrup doesn't exist here. You can buy the fake stuff at the commissary, but our UAB contained four big jugs of real maple syrup, which I am currently keeping under lock and key and doling out with a medicine dropper. Jack tried to start a business at school (I'm not kidding, he had a business plan and everything) selling our stuff at a highly inflated rate to Brazilian kids, and it would have been successful if we'd let him go through with it. One kid offered him a hundred bucks for some real maple syrup. I still feel kind of bad for squelching his entrepreneurial spirit, but the State Department frowns on that sort of thing.
There is plenty of cheese to be had, but you can't buy good cheddar cheese here. Anywhere. So, in true pioneer fashion, my darling husband ordered books and supplies to make our own cheddar cheese. I'm growing basil and hoping my food processor arrives some day so I can make pesto, and I'm ordering coffee beans from the States. That's right, I'm importing South American coffee to South America. Shut up, you would too if you were me and had a mental medicine cabinet with a special shelf labeled, "FUSSY".