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the
Cuban way to say I love you
Cooking
is my Cuban mother's way of saying I love you, and she sure has loved
a lot of people. There were six of us - two boys and four girls, but we
all brought friends home to dinner. She loved it, and somehow there was
always enough. More than enough, because she'd put a little on the side
for an old woman who lived in our block in New York City.
One of
my chores was to be her delivery boy. I grew up running around the building,
or going up and down the block with food in my hands. There was the older
lady down the street, and around the corner was an Irish family that had
befriended my mother when she was a lonely young émigré
missing her native Cuba. I'd go to the Irish family with a pot of ropa
vieja and return with Irish stew or fresh soda bread. They
introduced my mother to Worcestershire sauce, and that delicious Irish
bacon.Sometimes
she'd send me to my grandmother's with Cuban
black beans poured over
rice. My father's side was Puerto Rican, so abuela would send me
back with Puerto Rican pink beans and rice. I laugh when I think about
changing one pot of beans for another, but they were very different because
each Caribbean Island uses spices differently. My sisters
and I are all great cooks, and we love to argue about sofrito.
I like it smooth, so I make it in the food processor. They like theirs
chunky and do it by hand. We argue about it, but we like each other's
cooking.
ABOUT
ERNESTO: When not cooking, Ernesto is working toward his master's
degree in political science.
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