Summer at El Griegos in Mar del Plata, Argentina

Then a gallon jug of something green and flaky caught my eye. “Bill, do you know what this is?” I called out.
He pulled the cork out and took a sniff. “Oregano I think.”
I poured some out into my hand. “It looks like green bug parts to me.”
“Well when you use it just make sure you powder it real good, you know just” - He rubbed his hands together. “Then you won’t know the difference.” (ME?)
I pulled some eggs out of the bag, they had green sticky stuff, and feathers stuck to them. As I started towards the sink Bill said “don’t wash them, if you do they’ll go bad quicker.”
Quicker than what? Into the refrigerator they went to be washed only when they were used.

Next I took the wrap off of a wheel of white cheese and the smell was so bad I gagged.
“What stinks?” John was holding his nose. Randy and John Mc quickly started shoving chunks of the cheese into plastic bags. With 4 or 5 bags over each piece, it didn’t stink quite so bad. In the refrigerator on the bottom as far away from everything else as possible.
The eight “fresh” chickens in the box felt slimy. Bill, “Do you think we can do anything with these chickens to keep them from getting worse? I ask. “If we had a bigger freezer we could freeze them and they’d last a little longer. They sure won’t fit in that one.”
I looked at the chickens, studied the freezer. “Randy come here a minute will ya.” I put each chicken in a plastic bag.
As Randy came in I placed the chickens side by side on the floor. “Here stomp on these. Maybe that will flatten them enough so we can shove 5 or 6 of them in the freezer.”
“You’re kidding right.”
“No I’m dead serious, stomp.”
He picked up his engineer boot clad foot and Crunch, Crunch. Crunch, Crunch, Crunch Splat. Six flat chickens. I grabbed them, tied the bags shut, and stuffed them in the freezer, one on top of another. They all fit. Of course when we go to put them on the rotisserie spit their poor little broken bodies will probably flap and flop all over the place. We’ll need some twine.

The restaurant opened and we made it through the first day. Put the chickens we didn’t freeze on the rotisserie. Made sauce for the pizza. The crust was delivered to us pre-made so we just had to add sauce, cheese and trimmings. Potato salad and cold cuts were displayed nicely in the warm cold case. By the end of the day we had sold out of everything.
The second day was busier, the campground was starting to fill up and our menu expanded to include empanadas, spaghetti and gnocchi with meat sauce. The sauce was simmering. Bill’s potatoes were cooking and hamburger for the empanadas was frying. We all pitched in. I made the empanada dough with some hints from Maria. Paul and Gil rolled gnocchi dough off forks. John Mc heated the fat in the fryer in preparation for the empanadas. Randy grabbed a can of fly spray and sprayed it all over the kitchen in an effort to cut down on the fly population.
“Hey, cut that out. Can’t you see the flies are dying all over the table where we’re cooking?”
“So pretend they’re raisins and mix ‘em right in. You won’t be able to tell the difference.”
I took the spray can away from Randy.
Bill finished the potato salad, put it into a bowl, and placed it on display in the case along with cold cuts and cheeses. There still wasn’t any electricity. If the weather turned hot we’d be in trouble.
“The pasta is ready, rinse it off will you.” Bill called from the other room as he was waiting on a customer.
I took it to the sink and turned on the water. Great globs of green slime oozed from the faucet onto the pasta. “What the hell!”
“Oh, oh, the water tank’s growing algae, it needs a lid. I’ll tell Griego’s son when he comes. Pick it off - when the sauce is on it nobody will see it.
“Here.” I handed Randy the pasta and headed out the door. “I’m goin back to the camper.”
‘Where are you going? There’s a lot to do here. The empanadas still have to be made. Some chicken has to be cooked for salad.”

My head ached. I decided to go back to the camper and ignore everything. “I have to get the laundry in before it starts to rain. I’ll be back later.”
Bill and John Mc sampled the potato salad and spaghetti. I would eat at the motorhome thank you.
The kids waved to me from the tractor. Paul cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled, “We’re going with Juan and his Dad to cut wood.” Good that means there would be a steady supply of hot water for showers. Johnny added “But first we’re going to the dump to see if we can catch a pig. And then they’re going to roast him.”
Laundry was in and I had my sandwich. I’d better go back up there before they had to come looking for me.
Only one golden brown chicken was left, slowly turning in the rotisserie. “Is that chicken still cooking? It’ll be dry as a bone?” I commented as I came in the door.
Bill was leaning on the counter watching it. “No, I turned off the heat a long time ago, just the light is on. It just looks like it’s cooking,” he said.
“Lovely.” As I approached the doorway to the back room I saw that John Mc had a tray of empanadas. He was about to put them into the deep fryer.
“Hi.”
He jumped and they slid off the tray. A few made it into the hot lard and started to sizzle. Some were on the floor at his feet and the rest fell in the trash. He looked at me; I looked at him, turned around, and went back out front. They were all bouncing around in the hot fat when I returned. John ducked his head and smiled.

“Hey! Carol.”
Bill came into the kitchen with something in his hands, “go outside to the window, I’ll give this to you through the screen. Hurry up.”
I went outside. The last lonely chicken came through the screen. “A guy wants to buy this and I told him I’d put it in a box for him. Take it to the camper, nuke it, and bring it back to the window. I’ll put it in a box and give it to him.”
Out the window - to the motorhome - into the microwave - back through the window. Flight of the last chicken! “Here you are sir.”
Time to close we were out of chicken and potato salad.
The next day as we were walking outside who should come up to us but the guy we sold the chicken to. “Hola, that was one of the best chickens we ever had, we’ll see you again tonight.”
If you’re still alive I thought.
And so summer progressed. I learned to make a mean empanada and spaghetti sauce. We got really good at tying the chickens together so they didn’t flop around too much when turning on the rotisserie. The electrical outlet was installed and the cold case was cold. We tacked a piece of screen over the big hole behind the stove, but couldn’t do anything about the screens. Sometimes when the pizza crust was delivered some of it already had mold on it - these we did throw out - but then we usually ran out of crust before the next delivery which would come when the driver felt like making the trip. We learned not to depend on anyone showing up when scheduled - they got there when they got there.
Bill pretty much stayed in the restaurant. He was most comfortable waiting on customers. I helped out in the back when I wasn’t doing laundry! Randy and John Mc helped in the mornings and then worked around the camp in the afternoons. John - our John - ended up working in the little market that was on the campground. It just sold the basics: wine, bread, oil, tomato sauce, meat and dairy products. Paul and Gil were everywhere and anywhere

Just a quick note - after we came back from our trip I got a job within the food service industry. Eventually I became a trainer for workers and managers in of all things Sanitation in Food Service. I certainly had a lot of examples of what not to do to share with them. They especially liked the stomped chicken stories.