Day 17: 24 November 2025

Short Story -- Cooking Class

 ‘I can always tell where people are from based on what time they arrive,’ the man said coming in through a door on her right.

‘I’m Carlos,’ he added, extending his hand.

‘Sam,’ she replied, giving his hand a shake.

‘You’re the American.’ It should have been a question but he said it as a statement. And she nodded. He continued, ‘Americans are always early.’

Looking at the clock on the wall, Sam noticed there were ten minutes until the class was set to begin. She cooked quite a bit at home, so she thought a cooking class would be a fun way to learn a bit about local food and maybe culture.

Carlos continued, ‘There will be two Germans and an Italian joining you tonight.’

The Germans arrived right on the hour when the class was scheduled to start and the Italian entered the room a few minutes later.

‘Before we go into the kitchen and start cooking,’ Carlos said, ‘Let’s introduce ourselves a bit. Please say your name and why you are interested in a cooking class.’

The young woman to his right got them started. ‘Hello everyone. I am Isabella. And I am here in this class because I promised my Nonna that I would cook for her a Guatemalan feast when I got home. She is the one who encouraged me to come on this trip.’

‘Hello. My name is Gunther. I am here because my wife wanted to take this class.’ Some smiles and genial laughter followed that statement.

‘And I am his wife, Clara. I am always interested to learn new things and thought this class sounded fun.’

‘Last but not least, Sam,’ Carlos said.

‘Hi, I’m Sam. I love to cook and think food is an important part of culture and places, so I decided to give this cooking class a go!’

With introductions out of the way, Carlos ushered them into a small, dark kitchen.

‘This is Luisa,’ he said gesturing to a short woman standing near the stove. ‘She will be your guide in this culinary journey tonight. She doesn’t speak any English, but I am sure you will all get along fine.’ And with that, Carlos left.

The menu would include: guacamole, pepián (a chicken stew), rice, güisquil chilaquilas (a sort of veg and cheese sandwich then battered in egg and fried), mole, and rellenitos de plátano (plantain dumplings filled with a black bean and cinnamon mixture).

Luisa would hold up an ingredient and individuals could volunteer to prepare it. She would demonstrate what she wanted done to each ingredient before moving on to the next. And soon the tiny kitchen was alive with the sound of knives chopping and dicing, pots starting to heat up, and the him of pleasant chatter amongst strangers tasked to work together.

‘So, what brought you to Guatemala?’ Isabella asked Sam. Isabella was peeling a green vegetable and cutting it into thick slices for the güisquil chilaquilas.

Sam paused slicing the onions and answered, ‘Visiting a friend. You?’

Isabella replied, ‘I have wanted to visit Guatemala ever since reading a novel set here as a child. My Nonna encouraged me come before I start university in a month. She says young people need to live while they can.’

‘We both took a gap year before starting university,’ Clara said while mashing avocados. ‘We were already dating by then.’ She smiled at Gunther. ‘We went to Asia.’

‘Where else will you travel while on this side of the world?’ Gunther asked Isabella as he diced the chicken for the pepían.

And so the conversation continued.

Sam learned a few tricks from Luisa as she demonstrated one thing or another or shared cooking secrets. For example, you shouldn’t need a knife to cut open a ripe avocado. It will just twist open. Or that in Guatemala guacamole has mint in it.

Eyes watering after slicing and chopping a small mound of onions, Sam asked, ‘Are these diced enough?’

Luisa shook her head. No. She wanted them smaller.

Sam went over them a few more times, turning the board to try to get the pieces small enough.

Eventually, Isabella took over because Sam’s eyes couldn’t take it anymore and Sam moved on to mashing plantains and then black beans.

‘We are in Guatemala as part of our honeymoon,’ Gunther said as he stood by stove flipping the ‘sandwiches’ in the frying pan.

‘Congratulations!’ Sam and Isabella chorused.

‘Thank you. We are also visiting: Mexico, Peru and Chile,’ Clara added.

The meal was coming together.

Once the last rellenitos de plátano had been taken out of the pan and set on a nearby plate with the others, all of the finished dishes were taken out of the kitchen and back out to the main room where the four students had entered. A long wooden table with benches on both sides stood in the middle. Already there were plates, glasses, and cutlery.

A pot of the stew, bowls with guacamole,  salad, rice and mole, and plates with the güisquil chilaquilas and rellenitos de plátano were all set on the table as well. And then everyone sat down.

Carlos came around with bottles of wine — one red and one white — and filled everyone’s glass.

Nothing brings people together like food. And here were five — because for some reason Luisa wasn’t joining them — strangers turned friends for the night. And as the evening wore on, the wine flowed and the conversation was genial and by the end of the meal everyone sat back with full and satisfied stomachs and light hearts.

(Note: Although rooted in a real life experience, the characters and conversation [except for the opening line] are made up.)