Cr贸nicas de lo Absurdo #37. El pomo de aceite como herencia familiar. [ES/EN]
馃嚜馃嚫 En Espa帽ol
Cr贸nicas de lo Absurdo #37
El pomo de aceite como herencia familiar
Hola querida comunidad 
Cr贸nicas de lo Absurdo.
Esta es una serie de cr贸nicas sobre lo cotidiano, sobre esas escenas que se repiten tanto que dejan de parecernos extra帽as. Aqu铆 no hay exageraci贸n ni ficci贸n forzada. El absurdo no se inventa, se observa. Son textos nacidos de las esperas, de las normas, de la tecnolog铆a, de las costumbres y de esas peque帽as contradicciones que terminamos aceptando como normales. No pretenden dar respuestas, solo detenerse un momento y mirar con atenci贸n eso que hemos aprendido a aceptar.
En esta trig茅sima s茅ptima edici贸n el tema es:
El pomo de aceite como herencia familiar.
Fuente Pixabay
Hubo un tiempo en que tener un pomo de aceite en la cocina no significaba absolutamente nada especial. Era simplemente aceite. Se compraba, se colocaba junto al resto de los productos y se utilizaba cuando hac铆a falta. Si quedaba poco, se anotaba mentalmente en la lista de compras y se esperaba encontrar otro en la pr贸xima salida. Nunca fue barato, pero se pod铆a.
Hoy la historia es muy diferente.
El aceite de cocina se ha convertido en uno de esos productos que se miran antes de utilizar. No basta abrir la botella y cocinar. Primero hay que pensar cu谩nto queda, cu谩nto falta para que vuelva a aparecer y para qu茅 vale la pena utilizarlo.
En algunas casas el pomo termina guard谩ndose en un lugar seguro, incluso bajo llave dentro del escaparate, como si se tratara de una pieza de valor. Cuando llega el momento de cocinar, cada cantidad cuenta. Una cucharada deja de ser simplemente una cucharada y puede convertirse en una decisi贸n dif铆cil.
Puede parecer una exageraci贸n, pero cuando un producto b谩sico comienza a ser tratado de esa manera, algo ha cambiado profundamente en la vida cotidiana. Ya no estamos hablando solamente de un alimento m谩s caro. Estamos hablando de la transformaci贸n de un producto com煤n en un bien que se administra casi como si fuera una reserva estrat茅gica. Y hablo de aceite de girasol o soja, ni pensar en el de olivo.
La primera parte del absurdo: el aceite es un ingrediente b谩sico, pero en determinadas circunstancias empieza a recibir el mismo nivel de cuidado que si fuera una barra de oro.
Lo curioso es que no hace falta mirar demasiado lejos para entender por qu茅. En las mipymes de mi ciudad el aceite pr谩cticamente ha desaparecido y, cuando aparece, puede alcanzar precios que resultan dif铆ciles de relacionar con un producto tan cotidiano. Llegar al extremo de tener que entregar una cantidad cercana al salario mensual de un trabajador por un litro de aceite es una de esas situaciones que cuesta explicar sin detenerse a pensar.
Y si hablamos de un jubilado, la cuenta resulta todav铆a m谩s dif铆cil.
Aqu铆 es donde uno empieza a preguntarse hasta d贸nde puede llegar el absurdo.
La explicaci贸n que suele aparecer es sencilla: hay escasez. Y probablemente la escasez sea una parte importante del problema. Pero despu茅s de ver tantas cosas que desaparecen, reaparecen, cambian de precio o aparecen solamente en determinados lugares, uno empieza tambi茅n a hacerse preguntas.
No s茅 si toda esta situaci贸n puede explicarse solamente por la escasez. Tampoco s茅 si existe detr谩s algo m谩s que no vemos. Lo que s铆 s茅 es que, desde el lugar donde estamos los consumidores, el resultado termina siendo el mismo: un producto que antes formaba parte de la cocina cotidiana se convierte en un art铆culo que hay que buscar, comparar y cuidar.
Quiz谩s alguien pueda explicar perfectamente las razones econ贸micas, los costos de importaci贸n, la distribuci贸n, los intermediarios o cualquier otro elemento que intervenga en el proceso. Pero para quien est谩 parado frente al mostrador con el dinero contado, la l贸gica termina siendo mucho m谩s sencilla: necesito aceite para cocinar y cuesta demasiado. Trabajo todo el mes por un pomo de aceite. Si eso no es absurdo, 驴que es?.
Pero si el aceite no alcanza, siempre queda otra alternativa que durante generaciones estuvo presente en la cocina cubana: la manteca de cerdo. Dicen que es da帽ina, otros dicen que no, lo cierto es que al cubano le encanta.
Pero tampoco parece haberse salvado de esta historia. La manteca tambi茅n ha subido hasta precios que hacen que uno vuelva a mirar el bolsillo antes de decidir qu茅 poner en la sart茅n. M谩s de 10000 pesos un pomo de litro y medio. Duplica el salario mensual de muchos.
Entonces estamos en una situaci贸n bastante dif铆cil de imaginar a帽os atr谩s. Dos de las opciones m谩s tradicionales para cocinar, aceite y manteca, pueden ser productos cuyo precio obliga a pensarlo dos veces antes de utilizarlos.
Quiz谩s por eso el pomo de aceite empieza a parecerse a una peque帽a herencia familiar. Se guarda, se administra, se protege y se calcula cu谩nto puede durar. No porque tenga un valor sentimental, sino porque reemplazarlo puede convertirse en un problema.
Y ah铆 est谩 la verdadera paradoja.
No deber铆a ser necesario administrar un litro de aceite como si fuera un tesoro. No deber铆a ser necesario preguntarse si vale la pena fre铆r algo, echar una cucharada m谩s o preparar determinada comida porque el producto necesario cuesta una parte desproporcionada de los ingresos de una familia.
Pero cuando una realidad se prolonga durante demasiado tiempo, lo extraordinario empieza a convertirse en costumbre.
Quiz谩s ese sea uno de los mayores peligros del absurdo: no solamente que ocurra, sino que terminemos adapt谩ndonos a 茅l. Que guardar el aceite bajo llave nos parezca normal.
Cuando medirlo con un gotero nos parezca normal y que cueste una cantidad enorme por un litro nos parezca normal.
Y que despu茅s de todo eso todav铆a tengamos que escuchar que simplemente debemos ahorrar un poco m谩s.
Hasta aqu铆 esta trig茅sima s茅ptima cr贸nica. Gracias por leer y espero sus comentarios al respecto.
Las im谩genes son de Pixabay y para la versi贸n en ingl茅s utilic茅 DeepL Translate.
馃嚭馃嚫 In English
Chronicles of the Absurd #37
The Cooking Oil Bottle as a Family Heirloom
Hello, dear
Chronicles of the Absurd.
This is a series of chronicles about everyday life, about those scenes that happen so often that they eventually stop seeming strange to us. There is no exaggeration or forced fiction here. The absurd is not invented; it is observed. These texts are born from waiting, rules, technology, customs, and those small contradictions that we eventually accept as normal. They are not meant to provide answers, but simply to stop for a moment and look carefully at something we have learned to accept.
In this thirty-seventh edition, the subject is:
The Cooking Oil Bottle as a Family Heirloom.
Source Pixabay
There was a time when having a bottle of cooking oil in the kitchen did not mean anything special at all. It was simply oil. You bought it, placed it alongside the rest of the products, and used it when needed. If there was little left, you mentally added it to the shopping list and expected to find another one on the next trip out. It was never cheap, but it was affordable.
Today the story is very different.
Cooking oil has become one of those products that you look at before using. It is not enough to open the bottle and cook. First you have to think about how much is left, how long it will be before it appears again, and what it is worth using it for.
In some homes the bottle ends up being kept in a safe place, even under lock and key inside the cabinet, as if it were a valuable object. When it is time to cook, every amount counts. A tablespoon stops being simply a tablespoon and can become a difficult decision.
It may seem like an exaggeration, but when a basic product begins to be treated that way, something has changed profoundly in everyday life. We are no longer talking only about a more expensive food. We are talking about the transformation of an ordinary product into a good that is managed almost as if it were a strategic reserve. And I am talking about sunflower or soybean oil, let alone olive oil.
The first part of the absurdity: oil is a basic ingredient, but under certain circumstances it begins to receive the same level of care as if it were a gold bar.
The curious thing is that you do not have to look too far to understand why. In the small and medium-sized private businesses in my city, oil has practically disappeared and, when it appears, it can reach prices that are difficult to associate with such an everyday product. Reaching the point of having to hand over an amount close to a worker's monthly salary for a liter of oil is one of those situations that is difficult to explain without stopping to think about it.
And if we are talking about a retiree, the calculation becomes even more difficult.
This is where one begins to wonder how far the absurdity can go.
The explanation that usually appears is simple: there is a shortage. And the shortage is probably an important part of the problem. But after seeing so many things disappear, reappear, change in price, or appear only in certain places, one also begins to ask questions.
I do not know if this entire situation can be explained solely by the shortage. Nor do I know if there is something more behind it that we do not see. What I do know is that, from where we consumers stand, the result ends up being the same: a product that used to be part of everyday cooking becomes an item that has to be searched for, compared, and carefully used.
Perhaps someone can perfectly explain the economic reasons, import costs, distribution, intermediaries, or any other element involved in the process. But for the person standing at the counter with their money counted out, the logic ends up being much simpler: I need oil to cook and it costs too much. I work all month for a bottle of oil. If that is not absurd, what is?.
But if the oil is not enough, there is always another alternative that has been present in Cuban kitchens for generations: lard. They say it is harmful, others say it is not, the truth is that Cubans love it.
But it does not seem to have escaped this story either. Lard has also risen to prices that make you look at your wallet again before deciding what to put in the frying pan. More than 10,000 pesos for a one-and-a-half-liter container. It doubles the monthly salary of many people.
So we are in a situation that would have been quite difficult to imagine years ago. Two of the most traditional options for cooking, oil and lard, can be products whose price forces you to think twice before using them.
Perhaps that is why the bottle of oil begins to resemble a small family inheritance. It is stored, managed, protected, and calculated to see how long it can last. Not because it has sentimental value, but because replacing it can become a problem.
And there is the real paradox.
It should not be necessary to manage a liter of oil as if it were a treasure. It should not be necessary to ask yourself whether it is worth frying something, adding one more tablespoon, or preparing a certain meal because the necessary product costs a disproportionate part of a family's income.
But when a reality continues for too long, the extraordinary begins to become customary.
Perhaps that is one of the greatest dangers of absurdity: not only that it happens, but that we end up adapting to it. That keeping the oil under lock and key seems normal to us.
When measuring it with a dropper seems normal to us and having it cost an enormous amount for a liter seems normal to us.
And that after all of that we still have to hear that we simply need to save a little more.
This concludes the thirty-seventh chronicle. Thank you for reading, and I look forward to your comments.
The images are from Pixabay, and the English version was translated using DeepL Translate.
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