Popular in Costa Rica, an Afro-Caribbean stew called rondón is named after the American phrase “run down” referring to how anything that can be “run down” or collected can be used to make it. The concept behind this dish reminds me of a game my sons and I like to play on evenings when nothing’s been planned for supper, we call it Mystery Dinner. It’s when we use anything we can find in the house to prepare a meal.
Played in households around the globe, this game and some if its stand-out dishes have been passed down through the generations of our family. My maternal grandma (Grandma Bell) had a knack for combining various leftovers to create a delicious and filling meal, with several of them becoming recurring staples on our family’s dinner table. Likely resulting from a round of Mystery Dinner, one such dish has become a favorite in our home that we now make regularly—we call it haystacks.
Named for its tapered shape, this layered dish starts with a base of Doritos, an ingredient you can’t go wrong with. You crunch up a couple handfuls of the chips and then spread them out on your plate. Next, a few spoonfuls of hot steamed rice are piled on top of the Doritos followed by a ladle or two of spicy chili (made with beans). This creates the foundation of the haystack. Lastly, you can pile on any desired additional toppings such as grated cheese, salsa, shredded lettuce, diced onion, queso, halved olives, sour cream, etc. Now you have a delicious haystack in front of you ready to eat.
I just did a Google search for “food called a haystack” and was shocked to discover that this dish has been around for at least 60 years, according to Wikipedia. Supposedly, in the US haystacks are popular among several religious groups (Mormon, Amish, and Seventh-day Adventist) who historically either made them for potlucks or fundraisers. So as it turns out, haystacks weren’t a product of Mystery Dinner. Either way, it is still a cherished recipe that my grandma passed down to my mom who then shared it with me. The best part is that when I make haystacks for my family, it causes me to pause and think about my grandma and all the wonderful things I learned from her.
In the end, whether born out of necessity or tradition, dishes such as haystacks remind us that food is more than just nourishment—it’s a link to memory and family. Every time I layer Doritos, rice, and chili onto a plate, I feel connected not only to my grandmother’s kitchen but also to generations of families who have created their own versions of “run down” meals. These recipes carry stories, laughter, and comfort, making even the simplest suppers meaningful. And perhaps that’s the real magic of cooking: the ability to transform whatever we have on hand into something that feeds both body and soul.
