Quinoa patties. "Squeeze him hard" he warned her

It was Saturday 20th of December, five days before Christmas and I was in the back of the car with the embassy driver, Harold, in direction towards the Westfalia orphanage in Cieneguillas, one of the few districts of Lima that is not completely urbanized. The sight from my window was devastating, a total different view from the fancy Barranco suburb where I live. The malecon and the art galleries were left behind.

I put the window down for a bit, but I couldn't feel the cool breeze from the ocean anymore, just a wave of heat that hit my face unpleasently. The driver turned on the air conditioner. As we kept driving in the highway from La Molina suburb and passing through rundown shops and houses, street dogs and kids playing with broken plastic bottles, I read big signs on top of small restaurants offering chancho cooked in the style of "caja china". I haven't tried it yet but it is on my list of "to do" in Peru. According to what I have seen and been told it is a long wooden box used to roast whole pigs to the perfection in just a few hours...so tender the meat is in the end that sometimes it is cut with a plate instead with a knife.

During my 90 minutes drive to Cieneguillas I remembered what I read recentely in a newspaper that Lima is actually the second biggest city built over a dessert, after El Cairo. I couldn't agree more.

We got lost trying to find the orphanage but I am glad we did because otherwise I wouldn't have seen the river Lurin. My driver told me that until the decade of  1980 this river had the best extraction of river prawns!

Finally, the  green door of the albergue was opened and we came inside, parking next to a big bus. There were colourful balloons everywhere, gorgeous little girls with face painted and a Santa Klaus or Papa Noel in his hot red costume waiting excited to deliver the donations, wrapped presents from generous annonimous people. Name by name, the children collected the gifts kissing the Santa before returning to their spot on the grass. There was so much anticipation. I couldn't help but smile and take photos of what surrounded me.     

Next to where I was sit, the first row in front of Santa, there was a girl of seven. She could be my daughter. While I was talking to her, she gave me a hug so tightly that her arms didn't let mine go. I saw some lieces in her hair but that didn't stop me from making her a plait when she asked me "could you make my hair to look like Frozen? 

We  were interchanging some short sentences although in this occassion the silence was comfortable.

Do you belive in Santa? she asked me.
Yes, of course I do, don't you? I replied intrigated.
My mum says he doesn't exit, my friend said with sadness.
If you want to believe then, Santa exists. I assured her.

Her name was next and she stood up to take her gift from Santa.

I was thrilled that Scott, the Australian guy who has been helping this orphanage for a long time, invited me to participate of the Chritmas party. I didn't do much, really, but I recieved a lot instead. The children gave me a Christmas card dedicated to my husband and me and when I was leaving, my little friend came running to hug me. It was hard to dettach myself from her. I felt very emotional.

It was 5pm when we were back in the car to go back to the "bubble". I was meeting Nick and Aurelia at 6.15 in the theatre to see the classic ballet The Nutcraker. In the car, I was quiet, with a sad-looking face,thinking of that time I just spent with the kids, in particular with Luciana, being grateful that people like Scott are taking care of them and keeping up with the good work. 

My driver noticed my state and started to talk. Our conversation turned from one subject, religion, to another, his past. He shared with me the story of how his family lived the terrorism, being his young father the Comisario and being in constant threating. It was terrible the masacre lived in Ayacucho, he said. His voice was breaking. My heart was agitated. My dad told me when the terrorism ended that the Sendero Luminoso took the children away to kill them, or in front of the parents so he had to warn women with babies to "squeeze" them very hard before the Sendero did it. 

It was 6.10  and I arrived on time at the theatre, feeling miserable. Too much to assimilate in only one afternoon. Nick and Aurelia just came out of the car, very smart and fresh. I walked towards them, I think I actually run because I wanted to hug them so tightly that they couldn't go away.

A hug to all of you, but a happy one.

Feliz Navidad!

Quinoa Westfalia patties

I made up this recipe last Saturday afternoon before I went to Westfalia orphanage. I gave them that name so I remember my friend and the kids I met everytime  I cook them. I hope you do too.

• 1 cup of cooked quinoa
• 4 carrots sticks, cooked
• 1 bunch of spinach, washed and roughly chopped
• 1 onion, peeled and diced
• 2 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
• 2 slices of jamon or prosciutto, thinly cut 
• 2 eggs
• 1 cup grated cheddar cheese
• 1/2 cup corn flour (or plain flour)

1. Cook the onion and garlic until softened, at low heat for 10 minutes, to give them a sweet flavour. Add the jamon and stir. Add the spinach and increase the heat to cook it for 2 minutes. 
2. In a food processor, place all the ingredients and blend until a smooth consistency.
3. Spread the batter in a dish and cover with plastic film tp let it cool down.
4. When ready to eat, make small balls with wet hands and flatten a bit. I made them the size of a walnut or so. Fry them in hot ooil and dry on kitchen paper to absorb the oil (I place the paper on top of a rack so there is air underneath to avoid to get the patties wet and soft).
5. Serve them inmediately with a green salad or an open tomate plate.

Note: my kids loved them, even my husband who is not very  keen in quinoa!