HIDDEN KITCHENS MEMOIR
Enchiladas. One of my mom's specialties. My favorite meal in the world hand’s down. The spicy, almost burnt smell, waffing the kitchen, one that draws you closer and makes you hungry.
“Karen, Ruth, David, Rebecca!” She yelled across the house to get our attention. “Cuantas Queires?” She would ask each one of us. 3, 3, 4, 2. We waited at the table for the God crafted goods to reach the tablecloth. You could see the cheesy steam coming from the enchilada, waiting for you to cut in and take a bite. The spiciness could make amateurs sweat, but I’m used to it. Mexican pride. Salsa verde running down the side of my lip followed by a stretch of my tongue. The taste of the chicken combined with the salsa verde in your mouth is a crazy tsunami of flavor to your taste buds, one that is unforgettable. I would choose my mom’s creations over any dish, including In-N-Out. It's hard for me to turn down In-N-Out, but my mom makes it possible. That 4x4 cheeseburger with fries and a shake is no competition to my mom’s signature dish.
All the laughs the enchiladas brings to the table. The berserk conversations it sparks. The countless memories that have been made eating this one of a kind dish. What makes it enjoyable still remains a secret, but it always is, making this dish what I miss about home. The people I share it with make it even more special. The thought of not having those rich ingredients in my stomach could give me the urge to consume more. The explosion of flavors in your mouth make it difficult for you to swallow, but your impatience hurries you into taking another bite. Although my mom can make other Mexican creations that will have you begging for more, my all time favorite will always be her majestic enchiladas. I can never stop eating once I start. Just thinking of enchiladas bring happy thoughts to me, like the type of dinners where everyone is sitting down and on the last enchilada bite the happy arguments kick off. In that moment the quiet eating turns into a chaotic discussion. The hour long conversations of real substance. Then out of nowhere, you can hear something at the door. Scratches on the wood. My mom stands up and opens the door moving aside to let the dog in. He jumps with the joy of seeing us after being alone all day. My mom reaches for his plate of food and places it next to the doorstep. He races over there and begins to munch. We watch as he gulps it down. Laughing. Smiling. More and more memories. Like the time Rebecca had to go to the bathroom and they stayed in there for a long time. Not so good of a school lunch.
“It stinks! don't go in there.” We all giggle. Memories after memories have been made in my house and even more special ones have been made with enchiladas. But like every dinner it comes to an end and your butt begins to hurt because you've been sitting down for so long. You start to miss the sit down family dinners when you get busy with activities; school, waterpolo, more school. The enchiladas call my name, and I can relate them to a lot of different things. Countless thoughts come to mind with just picturing the plate. The quality time spent together with my family is worth everything. Dinner is the time that our family loves most. All six of us sitting, together and eating, which is one of my hobbies. You can say whatever you want about them, but when you cut into the tender chicken all you want to do is swallow and devour the rest, but you have to make time to enjoy it as well. The goodness of the salsa verde being consumed by the tortilla is too satisfying to resist. My mom takes the time to construct magical ingredients into a creation. She makes food with so much joy; so careful not to burn it or over cook it.
Working every weekday from eight to five and still being able to feed six people food all week is so impressive to me. My mom is a role model for me and I look up to her in many ways. I’ll never forget the time I punched a kid and got sent to the principal's office. Thirty minutes later my mom showed up for me and looked the principle dead in the eyes, saying,“give me my kid.” She then proceeded to the front door and walked me out of the school. Arriving at the house she made enchiladas for her and for me. We sat down together at home and talked about what had happened. Throughout the conversation, she didn't raise her voice other than the times that we laughed together. She knows what's best for me, and shows me how to get there. It might not be a perfect road, but she will never send me down a road too difficult. She treats us all the same. There are no favorites in my family, but we all know, she likes me a little more than everyone else. Today there are five of us around the table but soon there will be 4. Our meals used to be four kids and two adults. Today it's only three kids and two adults. I guess everything can't always go your way. But there will always be enchiladas and something to comfort me. The food that joins me with my family. With my Mexican side, which it keeps alive. These enchiladas make me who I am and it suits me perfectly.
Enchiladas. One of my mom's specialties. My favorite meal in the world hand’s down. The spicy, almost burnt smell, waffing the kitchen, one that draws you closer and makes you hungry.
“Karen, Ruth, David, Rebecca!” She yelled across the house to get our attention. “Cuantas Queires?” She would ask each one of us. 3, 3, 4, 2. We waited at the table for the God crafted goods to reach the tablecloth. You could see the cheesy steam coming from the enchilada, waiting for you to cut in and take a bite. The spiciness could make amateurs sweat, but I’m used to it. Mexican pride. Salsa verde running down the side of my lip followed by a stretch of my tongue. The taste of the chicken combined with the salsa verde in your mouth is a crazy tsunami of flavor to your taste buds, one that is unforgettable. I would choose my mom’s creations over any dish, including In-N-Out. It's hard for me to turn down In-N-Out, but my mom makes it possible. That 4x4 cheeseburger with fries and a shake is no competition to my mom’s signature dish.
All the laughs the enchiladas brings to the table. The berserk conversations it sparks. The countless memories that have been made eating this one of a kind dish. What makes it enjoyable still remains a secret, but it always is, making this dish what I miss about home. The people I share it with make it even more special. The thought of not having those rich ingredients in my stomach could give me the urge to consume more. The explosion of flavors in your mouth make it difficult for you to swallow, but your impatience hurries you into taking another bite. Although my mom can make other Mexican creations that will have you begging for more, my all time favorite will always be her majestic enchiladas. I can never stop eating once I start. Just thinking of enchiladas bring happy thoughts to me, like the type of dinners where everyone is sitting down and on the last enchilada bite the happy arguments kick off. In that moment the quiet eating turns into a chaotic discussion. The hour long conversations of real substance. Then out of nowhere, you can hear something at the door. Scratches on the wood. My mom stands up and opens the door moving aside to let the dog in. He jumps with the joy of seeing us after being alone all day. My mom reaches for his plate of food and places it next to the doorstep. He races over there and begins to munch. We watch as he gulps it down. Laughing. Smiling. More and more memories. Like the time Rebecca had to go to the bathroom and they stayed in there for a long time. Not so good of a school lunch.
“It stinks! don't go in there.” We all giggle. Memories after memories have been made in my house and even more special ones have been made with enchiladas. But like every dinner it comes to an end and your butt begins to hurt because you've been sitting down for so long. You start to miss the sit down family dinners when you get busy with activities; school, waterpolo, more school. The enchiladas call my name, and I can relate them to a lot of different things. Countless thoughts come to mind with just picturing the plate. The quality time spent together with my family is worth everything. Dinner is the time that our family loves most. All six of us sitting, together and eating, which is one of my hobbies. You can say whatever you want about them, but when you cut into the tender chicken all you want to do is swallow and devour the rest, but you have to make time to enjoy it as well. The goodness of the salsa verde being consumed by the tortilla is too satisfying to resist. My mom takes the time to construct magical ingredients into a creation. She makes food with so much joy; so careful not to burn it or over cook it.
Working every weekday from eight to five and still being able to feed six people food all week is so impressive to me. My mom is a role model for me and I look up to her in many ways. I’ll never forget the time I punched a kid and got sent to the principal's office. Thirty minutes later my mom showed up for me and looked the principle dead in the eyes, saying,“give me my kid.” She then proceeded to the front door and walked me out of the school. Arriving at the house she made enchiladas for her and for me. We sat down together at home and talked about what had happened. Throughout the conversation, she didn't raise her voice other than the times that we laughed together. She knows what's best for me, and shows me how to get there. It might not be a perfect road, but she will never send me down a road too difficult. She treats us all the same. There are no favorites in my family, but we all know, she likes me a little more than everyone else. Today there are five of us around the table but soon there will be 4. Our meals used to be four kids and two adults. Today it's only three kids and two adults. I guess everything can't always go your way. But there will always be enchiladas and something to comfort me. The food that joins me with my family. With my Mexican side, which it keeps alive. These enchiladas make me who I am and it suits me perfectly.