I visited a good friend in Drake Bay, about ten kilometers down the coast from me. Her parents were also visiting from the States. Her mom was a great cook and decided to bake an apple pie. The worker on the property, a Costa Rican, mentioned he had never eaten a pie. We explained it was a cultural thing; pie was as American as . . . well, apple pie.

Mom made the apple mixture, then put it aside and started on the pastry. She had to make the pastry from scratch because there was no frozen, pre-made pastry in Costa Rica.

When the pastry was ready and lining the baking dish, mom scooped in the apple filling. However, somehow a dragonfly had gotten stuck in the filling – the doors and windows were open – but she never noticed. She covered the filling with a thin layer of pastry and shoved the pie into the oven.

Forty minutes later the apple pie was ready and it looked and smelled beautiful. We waited a while until it cooled somewhat, then we all stood in line for a piece of pie, including the worker, who was excited to taste his first American pie.

The pie was excellent and we all complimented mom, including the worker. Later that day, the worker approached my friend when she was alone and told her he loved the pie, but he was surprised it contained a dragonfly.

“What?” My friend exclaimed. “A dragonfly? What did you do?”

“I ate it,” said the worker. “I thought it was supposed to be in there. It tasted a little funny and kinda crunchy.”


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