Costa Rica: Chela Cooking Class & Wood-Fired Dinner Experience

5.00

(140 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

The first thing I noticed was the smell—smoky and warm, like old wood and something sweet I couldn’t name. We’d just stepped into Doña Chela’s kitchen in Costa Rica, and she was already laughing at us for peeking around like lost chickens. Her hands moved fast, showing us how to grab herbs from the garden outside (I still have dirt under my nails, honestly), and she kept saying “despacio” when I tried to chop onions too quickly. There’s this soft clatter of pots and the crackle from the wood stove—nothing fancy, but it feels alive.

Chela’s husband wandered in at one point, nodding at our pile of rice and beans. He said something about how his mother used to make tortillas even thinner—Chela rolled her eyes but smiled. Making webbed tortillas is harder than it looks; mine came out lopsided but nobody cared. The whole time, she told stories about her grandparents’ kitchen, how everything started with what you grew or could trade for down the road. It’s funny how food here is less about recipes and more about memory.

We sat down together for dinner—rice, fried beans, salad, picadillo, plus a choice of meat or veggie (I went veggie). The married plate looked simple but tasted like every flavor had its own story behind it. There was a pitcher of some bright fruit drink I can’t pronounce (Chela tried to teach me; I failed). By then it was getting dark outside and the only light came from the stove flame flickering against the walls. I didn’t expect to feel so welcome in someone else’s home, but there we were—laughing over crooked tortillas. That feeling sticks with me more than any recipe.