Ernesto Martinez

Hurricane Polo hit us here in San Carlos on Tuesday. It wasn’t the kind of storm that erases a town, but it left its scars all the same. For me, it was just the relentless rain forcing its way under the doorframes, pooling quietly across the floor—a small, messy reminder of what was raging outside. By three that afternoon, the skies had broken enough for me to take the dogs down to Piedras Pintas. Watching them run against the bruised shoreline, kicking up wet sand, it felt strange how...

Aprendan a cocinar. Hice tacos de carne esta noche y no se me quemaron. Cuando digo “¡vámonos a dar una vuelta!” en inglés, tanto Kuma como Lucia ya están en el carro. A Kuma le tomó tres años perderle el miedo al carro. Ahora sabe que es divertido… con las ventanas y su cabeza afuera. A Lucia no le importa. Lleva medio cuerpo afuera del carro… pero si veo a otro perro antes que ella, ventanas arriba. Ella es mi “protectora” y la de Kuma. Cebolla picada, cilantro, ajo, tortillas de harina....

Biohazard Chef / Chef de riesgo biológico Oh, look at me—the culinary visionary and absolute master of the "biohazard" aesthetic. After practically poisoning myself with that garbage-sushi catastrophe yesterday, it’s truly inspiring that my own survival instinct didn't bother to kick in, leading me to punish my digestive tract all over again. After that disaster, my friend and I had the inevitable "what are you having for dinner?" conversation. My brain was screaming for a nice, cold shrimp...