By Angelica Tirado-Cruz
Snow engorged the outside of my home-sewn hammock. As I watched it swing awkwardly in the latest of Wyoming’s unforgiving snow storms, I felt a pang of guilt –it was not created for this kind of pitiless weather. In a moment of weakness, I brought the whole frame and hammock indoors. Once it was properly dry, I laid back in its solace, closed my eyes, and began dreaming of Puerto Rico, the beaches, the people, and, OH, the food.
It all begins with sofrito. This melody of garlic, spices, herbs, and various vegetables is the base of almost all Puerto Rican cuisine. When it hits the bottom of a heated pan drizzled in olive oil, the sizzling immediately sends an aroma that waifs through the house and seeps through the cracks of a home. “Bienvenido!” is its declaration as it greets any who come close to the front door. But it not only beckons the living to venture near.
On the waves of aroma, the tide brings familiar faces to my peaceful mind. Tias, abuelas, and bisabuelas, those women who handed down their sofrito recipes, surround me and say, “Todavia, estamos aqui contigo, mijita,” (“We are still here with you, little daughter.”) In my stillness, they were able to visit me and, through the folds of the hamaca, vicariously hold me.
Mama Polonia, my bisabuela, leans into my slumber and whispers of the time when she wrapped me in her arms and hummed a nameless lullaby to her negrita; the little granddaughter whose skin was chocolate like hers. I recall melting into her warmth as, back and forth, we rocked for an eternal moment.
My Tia Bell stepped in next, and I couldn’t help but grin. She was often referred to as “la tia loca,” or the crazy aunt. She prodded one of my earliest memories. On that day, my toddler mind had recorded flashes of color, smells of the barbacoa, and the giggling that my primos encircled me with. In the hamaca, they would place me and, like a pastelillo, wrap me up to swing me around and around and around, sometimes not so gently. It was a day full of white sand, good food, and, most importantly, family.
The last memory of my repose was tinged with a sweet sadness. My abuela Marsela recounted how her father had sent her at the age of 10 to work in the kitchens at the sugar plantation. Between meals, she was allowed to go to school. But as she walked through the towering stalks of sugarcane, she more often than not found a secluded spot made a bed of cane leaves, and for hours rested her weary body.
But guilt for being where I was at that moment, relaxing in the comfort of a house instead of a sugarcane field, was not the purpose of her story.
What she and the others wanted me to feel was love and gratitude. The lesson they bore me was that they had lived so that I could live better.
In my adopted home of Wyoming, though distant from the tropical shores of my ancestral home, I breathed in the delicious scent of arroz blanco con habichuelas y pernil, watched hips swaying to salsa music as they dance on the streets of Old San Juan, and felt the humid warmth of a long Caribbean night punctuated with the sounds of the coqui. Within moments, the wintry landscape outside turned tropical, the hamaca swayed in a warm ocean breeze, and there appeared as if, by magic, a piña colada in my hand. Yet, all the while, just outside my window, the wind still howled, and the snow unabatedly fell.
Sofrito
Onion: Swap one medium yellow onion with red or white onions or 1 bunch of green onions.
Bell pepper: 1 (any color)
Garlic: Use 1 medium head
Cilantro: 1 bunch
Olives, pimento stuffed: ¼ cup
Capers: 1 tbsp
Oregano (fresh): 1 tbsp crushed
Salt: 2 tsp
Black Pepper: 1 tbsp
Optional Ingredients:
Ajies dulces: Use 12. These are also known as Puerto Rican Peppers and are very difficult to find.
Culantro: 6 leaves. In Puerto Rico, they always use culantro, also known as recao, an herb similar to cilantro but with long leaves. I can sometimes find this at an oriental market
Peppers: 1 cubanelle
Celery: ½ or 1 whole stalk
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Wash, peel, seed and coarsely chop everything.
Place all the ingredients into a blender or food processor and puree.
Store in a covered container in the refrigerator. You can also freeze in ice-cube trays and dump into a gallon bag. Each cube is about 1 tablespoon.
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