The Spice of Life

There is something about food that brings back memories flowing like a river.   Whether it is the thought of the Thanksgiving Turkeys, to the smell of fresh baked bread reminding me of the bakery down the street from where I grew up, it is said that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  And that is definitely the case for me.

I have always believed that passing down cooking recipes is essential to connect us to our past and keep the memories of the wonderful meals our families shared together alive.

Mom was a great cook and was always slaving over the stove, making sure the meal was ready for Dad when he came home from work.

My earliest memory of Dad cooking was when Mom gave birth to Annie and we remember dad cooking.  We were shocked at how well he cooked.

When he took over as the primary care giver in the house, I asked dad if we could get someone to come in to cut the grass, take over the chores and cook.  His response to me was "Rafy, please don't take that away from me.  It is the only thing I can do and gives me something to do."

Mom was deep into her disease and was too much for dad to handle so that is when we began our shifts.  Dad had gone through a rough patch with his health but was still plugging away.  Making his famous arroz con gandules, baked chicken, his delicious sancocho, and of course, his daily dose of tuna sandwiches for lunch. With diced tomato and olives.  He wouldn't strain the tuna so it came out a bit watery but it was still tasty.

On Friday night, when it was my turn to visit him, he would tell me about the moyejitas he would be frying on Saturday for Lunch, or the pulpo he purchased for a nice octopus salad.  He would tell me that they would be ready for lunch and for me to come any time.

Of course, by 10:30 or 11AM on Saturday, as I was still cutting the grass and doing my weekend chores, he would call me to tell me that I can come over when I wanted but that it was already done. But of course, no rush. :)

He had the same habit with his rice.  We would ask him to make his rice for Thanksgiving or Christmas so it was ready by lunch and by 8AM he was already starting to cook it.  It would be done by 10 and then kept warm on the stove.  Sometimes, it was done a bit too early so it would start to dry out but it was still the best rice and beans we have ever tasted.

He showed his love through his cooking and there was no doubt he loved to cook and loved us.

He showed us some great recipes and how to cook some amazing things but the one menu item that took a whole team effort was making Puerto Rican Pasteles.  Initially, when they did it with us, mom was still very alert and the disease was not getting in her way of her doing her part.

When it was pasteles time, dad would be excited about going to the store to buy all of the vianda and the fresh pork shoulder.   We then all got together to grind everything up and assemble the pasteles.  It was essentially an all day thing, taking many hours to prepare and produce them.  In the end, we would do between 150-200 of them to share between the 5 homes.

On February of this year, almost two years from losing dad and 9 months from losing mom, my sisters and I got together to continue the tradition that our parents taught us.  We made a whole day of it, with Evelyn even preparing bacalaitos for us to enjoy before we got into it.

When the time came, we took out the machine that dad and mom had brought down from NJ to make the masa from the vianda.

This machine is a grinder and mixer that creates the best masa easily and quickly.

We then got to work on the assembly line. While we did this, we reminded ourselves of what we were doing right but also what we were doing wrong and how dad would be reminding us, in real time, what we were doing wrong.  We removed much of the pork fat from the meat and could hear dad tell us in his voice "eso es bueno y se come",  i.e., that's the good stuff.

We even had a glass of coquito to celebrate and toast to our parents for the blessed memory we had of them doing this.

By the time we were done, we had made about 120 pasteles to split between the four of us and we all believe that we knocked it out of the park.

In the end we do feel that mom and dad would have been proud of us, and are probably glowing in Heaven with the fact that we are continuing to do these things, honoring their memories, spending time together and partaking in continuing our culture.

We felt their presence in the stories and memories that came alive in the process of making them and in our minds, imagined them hovering over us and looking like this.

Family meals are opportunities to keep memories alive.  To continue the traditions that have been passed down to us.  To use food to awaken the senses of smell and taste so that it can remind us of the great times we enjoyed with the ones we loved and while they may not be with us in person, are with us in spirit.

Today, February 23, 2020, would have been dad's 84th birthday and is the 2nd birthday that we do not have him with us.  In his honor, we continue the traditions and enjoy the meals he created with the Spice of Life.