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Wednesday, April 06, 2011


I mentioned before that maruja in Spanish means old lady. The word is derived from the proper name Maruja which is kind of an old lady name like Hazel or Mildred in English. I’ve heard the verb form of this word, Marujear, many times. If there is a verb then there must be a participle that can act as an adjective which would be marujeado.

Ser Marujeado – to be done in by a Golden Girl

I got totally pimped by a some old gals today at the supermarket and I have no one to blame but myself. I was looking for something to go with some romesco sauce I made today and at first I was thinking of some sort of seafood. First of all, I should have gone to the market for this purchase but I didn’t have time. The Consum (a supermarket chain) by my house has decent seafood but I try to buy as much as I can from my vendors in the market. The problem with the seafood counter was the line. Three older gals meant that I was looking at a minimum of a 30 minute wait.

After doing a quick lap of the store I decided to match the sauce with chicken. They have chickens pre-wrapped but they looked smaller than the ones in the butcher department display. So all I needed was a whole chicken, a 30 second transaction. There was only one young woman in line so I hopped in behind her. Unfortunately, the twenty-something was only saving a place in line for her abuela. This is kind of like thinking you are going to play a game of pick-up basketball with some school kids only to learn that you’re up against the Lakers. I felt like I had a ball of ice in my stomach when she started her order.

I don’t think she could have been more explicit in her order if she was overseeing her own gall bladder operation.  And am I just imagining this or do older Spanish women order enough food to feed 50 people every time they leave the house? This gal bought more meat than I eat in two weeks, and I eat a lot. More than anything else I just wanted a dinner invitation from someone like this person.  I would have asked her what she was planning to cook but I didn’t want her to take any longer than she already was.

15 freaking minutes I waited while she ordered a load of meat that would have made a Viking raiding party blush.  At least I was able to take advantage of some free samples of good Spanish ham between rolling my eyes and shuffling my feet. At last it was my turn and I ordered my chicken.  When I ordered the girl at the counter pointed out that you can buy whole chickens that are pre-packaged as something of an apology for how long I waited for Maruja, feeder of Viking hordes.  I told her that the ones in the butcher department looked bigger. The chicken I bought was only slightly bigger than the ones in the cooler.The good news is that I try never to be in a hurry.

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