The Kitchen and My Grandmother's Legacy

When setting foot on the Miami Airport, at the age of 11, after enduring a 5 hour flight from Peru, I realized that I was given a much greater range of opportunities; starting with a better education and ending with a successful future. I felt fear cruising through my veins. Half of me said: “Make your American Dream a reality” but the other half was longing for the feel of home and the homemade meals at my grandmother’s house. Right then, it hit me; I still had one vital connection to my days and loving memories of Peru and my family there, the food we had shared and loved throughout the years.

My grandmother is a simple, intelligent, quick witted woman, with a gift for the culinary arts. As Matt McAllester would say: “She cooked with the book closed”. She knew the exact amount of condiments to add to the pot, or the exact time and temperature the turkey should be in the oven. Everything she created was a step beyond delicious. The kind of food that persuades you to have seconds and lick your fingers at the end of the meal followed by a well deserved nap. Perfection is something that many believe impossible, claiming that only God is perfect. Since my grandma is Christian, I will say that her dishes were in set in the frontier between perfection and normality.

My mom, aunts and uncles all wanted to reach her level to satisfy the little ones of the family and have the honor of proclaiming:”I can cook just as well as Mama Oli”, that’s what we call her. My uncle Jose went on to become a computer programmer, however took on a job at a company as a chef. He was inspired by his mother’s words and dishes. I remember he used to cook for the whole family on weekends to show off his new acquired skills but primarily to express love for his mother.

I reminiscence of walking into my grandmother’s house after a long day in school and intoxicating myself with the sweet aroma originating from the kitchen. They snatched me away from my stream of consciousness, and no matter the amount of stress the day had originated, I knew this was the moment in which my mind and taste buds were at their happiest. I savored every single spoonful as if it was my last. Yet the most exhilarating part of food is its origins. I never missed an opportunity of accompanying my grandmother to the grocery market. I admired the maneuvers she possessed when picking out vegetables or fruits. Here is the trick, first spot out the one with the most vibrant color, next a smooth texture and last a delightful smell. Those three steps are the beginning to a great Saturday night dinner. After about 2 hours at the grocery market she had bought a rainbow. Some of the most gorgeous and color pulsating artifacts were overflowing her basket.

One of her specialties was spaghetti. It was light yet filling, ranging from a cheesy taste to a tangy tomato sauce feel; every bite was filled with an explosion of flavor. She often prepared papa a la huancaina, a typical Peruvian dish. Up to this day, I haven’t met one person or restaurant that can compare to how my grandmother prepared it. Hers was supreme. Spicy enough to give it the right taste but not too much to ruin the meal. Yet, no matter what she cooked for us, all her dishes had something in common; they all radiated perfection, love and effort. They all had a dominating power over our senses.

I cannot do her justice without mentioning her dessert delights. My favorite was a typical Peruvian delicacy, mazamorra morada (purple pudding). She did not make it often to keep the taste wondrous and not surrender it to habitualization. She applied Victor Shklovsky principle of habitualization by making the mind-boggling dishes a rarity. Victor Shklovsky writes about how art injects wonder in the most casual and typical artifacts in this world. Cooking is my grandmother’s art, injecting wonder in the most common dishes and making them her own. That’s what a true cook is. Taking the recipes and injecting them with your legacy of taste and doing it for a defined purpose, in her case to encircle us with love from the inside and to educate our taste buds.

Food was always the vital link with my family that I had to depart from. Food all around the world brings people together. Food is my escape from the cold-hearted aspect the world unfortunately possesses. When I moved, I could no longer enjoy the sight of my grandmother at her headquarters making her magical dishes or lose myself in the flavor. However, my mother understood our lost and to keep the link alive she recreated my grandmother’s dishes. She started by going to Publix and following the essential three steps when picking up vegetables and fruits. She carried a list. When she arrived at the kitchen in our house in South Florida she spent hours recreating the intensity and smell of the delicacies my grandmother cooked. Her first tries were somewhat unsuccessful, but she eventually got close to recreating that feel and intensity. Then she moved on to creating her own dishes. She was definitely my grandmother’s daughter; she grasped the lesson of the truism of cookery. She had learned to inject the recipes with her own legacy.

Then I moved to Georgia to attend the Georgia Institute of Technology. With the exceptions of the occasional visit home, I no longer had those overtaking homemade dishes. However, I realized it was not the taste of the food that mattered but the memories and emotions attached to them. I thank my grandmother and mother for this because I know I’m eating for a noble reason, to reminiscence on their unconditional love, the laughter we had shared, the difficulties we went through and the achievements we made true. Food became my art, because it never became uninteresting. I’m not afraid of trying new things, because those new things bring back memories buried deep in the unconscious. I anticipate what the next meal has in store.