"Holy Frijoles"

During our annual spring vacation flight to Costa Rica, I eagerly sought advice from our flight attendant about what she would recommend as a unique restaurant or bar to visit once we got to Tamarindo. Her spontaneous recommendation of 'Holy Frijoles' sparked a sense of anticipation in me. I could almost hear that as the opening line of an awesome country-western song.  

           "Wow,"  I said, "that should be the opening line from an awesome country-western song.

              The next day, following her instructions, we explored along the ridge road that overlooks the south Tamarindo surf beach.

As she told us, we took the old rutted dirt road just past the rundown "Su Casa" orphanage at the last turn away from the beach. We went through the flooded rain ditch and started to look for the bar sign.

 She had warned us to look carefully because the faded sign would be hidden back among what looked like a floral nursery.   Once parked, we had to look even closer to find the "Holy Frijoles" entrance. We only saw the door because she told us to look for Ralf's hot food push cart. It will be out front of the cantina. Not another vehicle was in sight. Asking ourselves if we really thought this was safe. The girls shouted, " NO!” So... I pushed open the heavy steel gate and the hand-carved wooden door, and in we went. Not to our great surprise, this led to a dark dirt tunnel leading down some steps to another heavily carved wooden door.   Pulling the next door open, we now stood at the entrance to a vast cave. This was not just any old musty cave; it was a rather posh cocktail hot spot. The place was packed. Mark asked one of the surf dudes if this was normal. Surfer dude shouted, "This was the busiest he had ever seen the place, and it isn’t even 7pm yet!"  The cave was dimly lit, and the only bright light came from the open patio door.   Making our way across the dance floor to the light, we found several dinner tables and a little outside garden patio hanging from the side of the hill. The patio was about 100 feet above the surf beach.

As we stepped on the patio and looked to our left, we saw that they had a MIXOLOGIST. A MIXOLOGIST is a hipster word for “This machine doesn’t care what you order” just as long as the order isn’t just “Give her the usual."  This MIXOLOGIST was way better than "just the usual."  It used the best top-shelf liquor. That was a big plus. "Guess what?" Mark said, “I am too old for that cheap crap these days."  He punched in the first selection on the iconic touch-pad listed as “Don't Ask. Don't Tell” - Vodka, Ginger Beer, Akavit, Lime, and Lavender.   Muttering, “Like well... OK, I'll try anything once.”  After the first sip, Mark yelled, "This drink is KILLER AWESOME! I love it”. It was a weird refreshing blend; you suck it down and call for another. 

Elizabeth punched in her lucky no. 7 and received a “Cardigan Daiquiri” - Rum Agricorés de Guadeloupe, Clove, Cardamom, Honey, Lemon, Walnut Eau de Vie, and Angostura bitters yielding a beautiful pink cocktail. Yeah, we didn't know what half that stuff was either, but it was not like your typical frozen daiquiri. It was fruity but not super sweet. We are not a daiquiri people, but that drink was excellent. Speaking for all of us, Mark said, "With six different  daiquiris, I am sure as the week wears on, each of us will try tasting every one of  those daiquiri selections sometime before we leave."  After those first few sips, we wanted to try all the MIXOLOGIST drinks.   

Seating in the hanging garden was reserved for diners only. Reservations were not allowed, but with Elizabeth's talent for snagging a table from diners who had just finished eating their deserts, we soon had the best table overlooking the beach. Our timing for sunset was perfect. We seated ourselves just 90 minutes prior to the sun dipping into the vast blue Pacific.

Having just sat down, the waiter thrust the menus at us and said, “You guys must hurry if you want dinner.   The chef has to leave a half hour after sunset."  With inquisitive looks around the table, Mark finally had to ask, “Why?”

“Well, he has to push his hot food cart home before dark.” 

With that, everyone busted out laughing. Since Mark was the adventurous eater of the group, he said, "Just bring me the best thing on the menu.”  Taking Mark’s lead, Elizabeth said, “That's not fair; that's what I wanted!"  Looking at the waiter, she said, "Just bring me something good with no hot peppers."

The waiter smiled at us and said, "It's all unique and delicious. Why don't I tell Ralph I have a party of six that wants a fiesta feast? That way, he can use up everything he has left. I'll serve it in a family style; everyone can choose what they want.   I'll ensure Ralph knows some dishes must be Habanera-free for the young ladies. Is that OK with everyone?"

Mark sputtered before anyone else could speak, "Hell yes, that would be great!”

To our surprise, our feast was beginning to be served by the time we returned to the table from our third excursion for some new choices through the MIXOLOGIST. Our waiter had already placed our appetizers on the table and was setting up to prepare our soup of the day, which, since it was Friday, was Baja Bouillabaisse. It was amazing how our waiter and Chief Ralph had brought the food cart inside, and everything flowed together like a well-rehearsed dance.

The appetizers were an artful display of bacon wrapped Jalapeno poppers and mini tostadas made from five-inch diameter tortillas laden with sour cream, cilantro, onions, garlic, whole kernel corn ribs, diced tomatoes, diced green chilies, and orange zest. Savoring our drinks and appetizers, we silently watched as Ralph prepared to make the Bouillabaisse. The food cart from out front had two portable charcoal grills fired to the max with a big soup kettle on one and a large cast iron skillet sizzling with olive oil on the other.

The waiter added the little neck clams and black mussels as the soup kettle began to roil. While he waited for them to open he brushed the Guaymas shrimp, deep sea scallops, and the spotted Cabrilla grouper with a healthy coating of olive oil. Starting the Cabrilla, he grilled it on both sides and then set it aside. In like fashion, he then grilled the shrimp and scallops. Just as the scallops came off the grill in perfect timing, the clams and mussels opened. Turning off the grill, Ralph added some Anaheim chilies to the cooling kettle. With the flair of a master chef, he then flipped the crab claws from behind his back, with each one splashing into the broth. Three minutes later, we were served the most delectable-smelling Bouillabaisse. Taking his time to precisely serve the portions one at a time, he lined each bowl with chili strips and the crab claws. He removed the crabs from the turned-off pot and filled about 1/3 of each cup with the broth. As the broth began to chill, he added some fresh peas and whole-kernel corn to the remaining broth. Dividing the shrimp, scallops, and Cabrilla into equal portions for each bowl, he dispersed the rest of the broth, adding a slice of lime and some cilantro to the top of each serving.

From under the cart, he withdrew a basket of warm, garlic toast made from fresh bolillo bread rolls. The rolls were served with a Rouille of red bell peppers, bread crumbs, saffron, garlic, and olive oil, which were served in individual dishes designed for dabbing onto the fish or spreading on the bolillos. Our party was awe-struck. Not one of us could say a word. We looked at each other and, without hesitation, began devouring the Bouillabaisse. Without noticing our waiter's earlier disappearance during the food preparations, we were surprised when he returned to wheel the cart out without fanfare.

           As most of us were finishing the Bouillabaisse, the waiter began wheeling in another small food cart. Unlike the first cart, this one only had a single large grill. Ralph introduced himself as the master chief and started a small chat with us as he began to prepare the main course. Elizabeth asked him, “How come, with all of his talents, why had he decided to practice his excellent cuisine here in Tamarindo?”  With a tear in his eye, Ralph explained how he had been an orphan at the Su Casa orphanage and, as a young boy, decided to make it his life's goal to support it. As he was growing up at the "Casa" when he was only 8, he began to help in the kitchen. Not having any money at the "Casa," We learned how to make the best of anything we had. He was soon the best scavenger of beach driftwood, shipping crates, wood pallets, or anything else they could make into charcoal. He then began raising chickens, ducks, rabbits and squirrels. He also learned how to fish the coast from an old thrown-away boat he patched with an old bed sheet and some leftover tar from when they repaired the old beachfront road many years ago.

           Returning to the dinner, Ralph said, "The only thing I have left are two young ducklings, some lettuce, and some corn on the cob. He asked if that would be OK.

           Again, the six of us shouted in unison, "hell yes!"

As Ralph began preparing the main course, He laid out the corn on the grill and then turned his attention to the ducks. First, he scored the skin on the ducks' breast, turned it over, and cut about 6 more slits on the underside of each breast. Then, into a small bowl, he added some fresh ground sea salt, black pepper, a dash of cayenne, and some squeezed fresh lime and mixed it well. He then stuffed a pinch of the seasoning into each scored pocket. He then added a slice of garlic and some andouille. Then, to our surprise, he placed it in the lower ice box of the cart and discharged a large CO2 cartridge to rapidly chill the bird. Ralph said he learned that trick one day when the fire inspector insisted that he prove the fire extinguisher was in working order. That didn't make any sense to Ralph since the extinguisher would be out of working order. Ralph pulled the trigger to please the inspector, and to his amazement, it almost froze the duck he was preparing for the Casa. Not wanting to waste anything, he went ahead and grilled the bird. To his amazement, it was the best-tasting duck he had ever tasted.   Ever since it's been the only way he cooks duck. Letting the ducks rest for a few minutes, he melted butter, cane syrup, and Tabasco sauce in a small bowl and placed it in the box to chill

.

           After turning the Corn one last time, he decided they were probably done and set them on one side of the grill.

Removing the ducks from the chiller, Ralph placed them on the grill, skin side down and continued his story about growing up. He told us stories of being caught in a vast tide that pulled him out to sea beyond the horizon and then having to spend the rest of the night waiting for the tide to shift and pull him back toward shore.    Ralph then told us that at the age of 13, he hitched his way to Mexico City to learn how to be a real Chef like Patricia Quintana, the famous Mexican author of over a dozen cookbooks. Upon his arrival at her home, he told his story and how he had hitch-hiked all the way from Costa Rica.  She had no alternative other than to take him in. During his short stay with Patricia, he demonstrated what he knew and then taught her some of his secrets like the chilled duck. In return, she taught him many simple and unique recipes. His favorite was how to prepare stuffed pickled Pompanos with Huitlacoche pronounced (weet-la-coh-cheh) or (corn smut), Guacamole, and Squash Blossoms with Almond Mole Chicken Sauce. Each of her recipes had a taste and character all their own.   Each dish was something he had never seen or tasted before. After spending a month with her, she decided he was smart enough and brave enough to let him discover his recipes. For the next two weeks, he was encouraged to make up as many new dishes as possible from whatever she had in the house. They could have been prime-time television chefs if they had only known what a hit today's chef war television shows would become. With little more to teach, Patricia packed up his merger belongings, gave him a stack of her cookbooks, and bought him a first-class flight back to San Jose with enough pocket money to take a taxi from the airport to Tamarindo. Ralph exchanged the plane ticket for cash and took the bus and pocketed the rest.

           After turning the ducks and basting them with the chilled cayenne and cane sugar glaze, he adjusted the coals by adding some new charcoal and then spread them out to even the heat.

Taking three heads of romaine lettuce and slicing them lengthwise, he doused each half with vinegar, smeared each half with an anchovy spread, and placed them cut side down on the coals.

           Taking each ear of the corn, Ralph pulled back the husks and removed and discarded the silks. He then spread a mixture of paprika, onion powder, kosher salt, dried thyme, and dried oregano and added some ground Anaheim chilies with unsalted butter. Pulling the husks back up and tying them with a strip of husk removed earlier and soaked in some water. Returning them to the grill, he placed them in a circle surrounding the duck so that as they charred, they would add a hint of smoke to the duck. 

           Ralph then pulled out 6 small individual servings of his world-famous Holy Frijoles that he had been warming alongside the grill. It was a beautiful display of bright yellow butter honey plantains, refried black beans with Coitia cheese, and dressed with a generous portion of cilantro.

With just a wave of Ralf’s hands, the serving crew appeared as if by magic and served each of us as we wished. That was simple; we all wanted some of everything. With his task complete, Ralph bid us all a” ¡Comer con gusto! Y Buenos Trades.”   Wheeling his cart away from the table, he reminded us to visit his wife at the orphanage Mañana.

We all ate silently except for the ohs, awes, and some; you must taste this! Dinner was spectacular, and Ralfph's presentation and timing were perfect. The feast had been prepared and served; no morsel was left as we finished. Dinner was declared finished just as the sun took 12 more minutes to set; beyond the western horizon,  

           As a final touch to the most exciting, entertaining, and delicious dinner, our waiter served up some hand-rolled Costa Rican Vegas de Santiago cigars and aged Brandy de Jerez for the gentlemen. Topped with fresh red raspberries and mint, Flan de Coco was served with Dom Pérignon Champagne for the ladies.

Nothing could describe the culinary expertise of Ralph and his Holy Frijoles. The meal was worth the trip to Costa Rica and will always be remembered. Our party then added their usual 20 % tip to the bill for the dinner and another huge donation for “Su Casa. 

The next day, we met with Ralph's wife at Su Casa just as she had taken in an abandoned baby boy about four months old. The mother and father had been killed in an auto accident, but the baby had been thrown out of the truck in his child’s seat and had survived save for some scrapes and bruises. 

Two months later, Sara and Tom made a memorable trip back to Su Casa and brought Baby Ralph home.