From Masapán to Bizcochos. Rolling in the dough

We had barely past the northern edges of Quito, which is one long north-south city thanks to mountains that restrict its east-west dimensions, when I could feel Oscar beginning to slow the vehicle down.

Ivan turned around from his shotgun seat in order to face me and the Canadian, who was seated in the rear.  "This is the municipality of Calderon.  It is famous for dolls and other art objects made from bread dough."

The nerd that I am, I quickly grabbed the guide book from my backpack.  "Calderon is a famous center of unique Ecuadorian folk art; the people make bread-dough decorations, ranging from small statuettes to colorful Christmas tree ornaments."  I jumped to the sentence after these. "These decorative figures are inedible."

We stopped in front of a small store.  Ivan and Oscar shook hands and hugged and kissed the people there.  A regular spot they bring the tourists to, I thought to myself.

"Masapán" The board made it clear that it was bread dough.  As we walked to the back of the store, three women were working at a table as if they were preparing cookies for a party.

"We have been doing this from when we were kids" Ivan translated their words for us.

As I watched them, I wondered why they hadn't automated a few things over the years. Like the mixing of the dough. And the flattening of it. And, definitely, a more efficient way instead of the cookie-cutter.

I suppose it is not easy to get rid of the engineering and economics background within me!

It is the same way I used to feel back in the days when we visited Pattamadai, where grandmother lived.  Pattamadai was, and still is, known for its exquisite mats made from "korai" grass.  Some of the mats are so soft they can even be folded as if they are from cloth.  Why not make it more efficient, I would think, on noticing that enormous labor was being spent on activities that do not add a whole lot of value.

I walked around in the store.  I rarely buy mementos, and definitely rarely anything like this for myself.  No surprise then that I didn't purchase anything from this unique masapán folk art store. (BTW, the store board did say Masapán and not Mazapán.)

As we got into the van, Ivan commented that the time spent in the store is almost always very short whenever there are only male tourists.  "With women, we have to keep reminding them that it is time" he added.

The urban landscape disappeared completely as we drove.  It was now nothing but hills, which Ivan said would soon turn brown as the rainy months had ended.  And then, as if he heard my stomach's growls, Ivan said, "we will take a break where you can eat the famous bizcochos of Cayambe.  You will also have a restroom there, if you need to use."

Despite his descriptions of bizccochos, I had a tough time imagining what they might look like. "You will soon see it" Ivan said with a smile.  I figured it was time for me to shut up from asking more about bizcochos.

When we pulled to a stop, the huge graphic on the wall made it abundantly clear.

Ivan placed the order for bizcochos, and turned towards us.  "The tour will pay for the bizcochos. Anything else, you pay."

If it were in the US, I would have ordered myself a cappuccino.  But, here, I noticed that it was one of those automatic vending machines that would spew out a mix of milk and coffee.

"A hot chocolate, please." I knew it would come from that same vending machine.  Why automate this, and not the masapan doll-making, I wondered.

A few minutes later, the waiter brought us the bizcochos and the drinks.  Ivan and Oscar explained that the bizcochos are eaten with a salty cheese or with dulce de leche--a rich and soft caramel.  I didn't like it with the cheese.

With the dulce de leche it was awesome.  It was like dipping something softer than a shortbread cookie into caramel fudge and gobbling it up. Who in their right minds would not like that!

I looked around at the few customers at the cafe.  The Canadian and I were the only tourists.  The rest were locals, from a kid who looked to be barely five, to people much older than me. But, despite all the bizcochos and dulce de leche nobody was obese.  Yet another reminder that I was not in the USA!