Cultural Relativity

I had an absolutely wonderful Saturday last week: I was invited to the home of my beloved’s family (he’s in Spain, I am here), the country home I should add.  A beautifully welcome break in the irritating honking and screeching of the city: silence, mountains, stars, a caramel moon.  The sweetest part of the whole day was quite frankly, the people.  We made franks (haha), and burgers, we were fed a plethora of sweets by the lovely matriarch.  For those few blessed hours, I felt closer to my “media naranja” (literal translation: half orange.  Like one is missing the other half of their orange.  Yeah, it’s real cute), and even better, I felt welcome and like I fit in.

I could proudly be woven into their tapestry.  For a few moments I was.  I rarely have been in the presence of so many people I admire that are not part of my own immediate family (I have been spoiled with an extremely smart and educated one).

Now, the reason for the title of this post is the following: I sampled some of the best chocolate confections I have ever tasted in my short (keeps getting less short), yet extremely candy-adventurous life.  They were called brigadeiros.  And I completely expected to find them under Dominican recipes when I searched for them.  But no.  They are Brazilian.  Now how would I be served a Brazilian sweet in the Dominican Republic, by a Dominican woman?  She studied in Brazil.  Cultural relativity.

I will be trying my hand at them soon, will post the recipe as soon as.