I tasted my first yucca in a forest in Ecuador, prepared for me by my neighbor.  She and I were similar ages, but had completely different sets of knowledge.  She didn’t know how to use a computer, and I didn’t know how to wash my clothes by hand.   She thought I was silly, but she looked out for me.  I watched her effortlessly build a raging fire in five minutes with her bare hands and a baby on her hip.  She roasted the yucca until the skin was black and the flesh was steaming, and we ate it with butter and salt.


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