Arroz con Pato

“Vamos a la chacra” says one the seceretaries at my school, which my reply is “por supuesto, dime donde y cuando.” So that Sunday, I grab a mototaxi to her street, ask some random strangers where “la señora Soledad” lives and away we go.

I quickly meet her sister, her daughter, her niece, and having already eaten breaksfast, ate breakfast again. Luckily they were tamales, which I love, but Soledad insisted I did not like them since I could only eat one. Our leaving time was 9am, so by 11am we were up and running to the chacra or fields.

I quickly meet Don Adan—who owns the chacra—his fighting cocks (Camaná’s biggest sport), cuy (guinea pig), and various ducks, chickens, etc. The house is humble, a quaint bachelor’s pad for a 63 year old man. The furnishings are sparce and there is a definitely lack of feminine touch, or cleaniness, about the place. I love it.

We immediately get to work. Soledad selects a fine rag, already dirty and everything, and wipes off the table we will be using. The fire is started, and the water is boiling overtop of the wood fire.  Don Adan enters into the shed we are standing in with his pato or duck and his machete, swiftly places it’s neck on the table and whack, I have seen my first animal slaughtered. The duck was then placed in a pot to bleed out while Don Adan came in with the chicken, animal slaughter number two.

After helping defeather the duck and chicken, cleaning and cutting them up, it was time to go to the fields. Don Adan and I picked corn, followed by lots of dicing of vegetables on blackened tables, aromas of cooking soup and duck. Don Adan and I exchanged dirty jokes and freshly boiled eggs while we waited patiently for the duck to be cook.

All together we enjoyed our chicken soup and mounds of rice with duck, served with homemade wine and Inka cola. To help settle the stomach, we went off to the chacras. The sister and I walked all over, talking about rice fields, types of beans, corn, and onion that were grown. I helped her move the tent that would be used as an overnight outpost to watch over the fields. In the end, it was really just the two of us laughing at the pile of wood and tarp that we were unsuccessful in making into said tent. Feeling sufficiently dirty and still full, a return trip for the last of the rice and wine welcomed the night sky and a good sleep, so for your daily dinámica, ask someone how to make “arroz con pato”.