The Flavors of My Life: Memories of Five Generations Around the Fireplace
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
The flavors of my life: Memories of five generations around the fireplace Fatima Garcia Lastra The flavors of my life: Memories of five generations around the fireplace Fatima Garcia Lastra Premios DEMAC 2011-2012 Mexico, 2013 First edition, September 2013 The flavors of my life: Memories of five generations around the fireplace by Fátima García Lastra Cover design: Mariana Zuñiga Torres www.marianazuñigatorres.com © All Rights Reserved, first edition, Mexico, 2013, by Documentación y Estudios de Mujeres, A.C. José de Teresa 253, Col. Campestre 01040, Mexico City Tel. 5663 3745 Fax 5662 5208 Email: [email protected] [email protected] Printed in Mexico ISBN 978-607-7850-46-5 Prohibited total or partial reproduction of this writing by any means - including electronic - without written permission by the holders of the rights. INDEX Prologue …..…………………………………………… Chapter 1 ………………………………………………. Chapter 2 ………………………………………………… Chapter 3 ……..……………………………………….. Chapter 4 ……………………………………………….. Chapter 5 ……………………..………………………… Chapter 6 ……………………………..………………… Chapter 7 …………………………………….…………. Chapter 8 ………………………….…………………….. Chapter 9 ..………………………………………………. Chapter 10 ……………………………………………... Chapter 11 ………………………………….…………… Epilogue ………….………………………………………. Bibliography …………………………………………….. To my mother, Elizabeth, as a tribute, with the hope that through these stories you continue living… with all my love, source of inspiration. To my motives, your grandchildren: Alvaro, Fatima, Juan Pablo, Leopoldo Agustin, Luisa Elizabeth and Silvia Alejandra… And mine: Mateo, Patricio and those who come further on. To my beloved companion: Alvaro. PROLOGUE WHAT ARE WE EATING TODAY? To arrange the meal every day is something that with the years becomes tedious and, to simplify, it falls into repeating the usual dishes. As a newlywed I strived very hard to try different stews, I tried laborious and complicated recipes, but later it became routine, because although “with Alvaro I had no problem, if I made certain thing, Juan Pablo did not like it; if I put peas, Fatima did not like it either…” so, for our children, as long as they ate, the repertoire of dishes was reduced to those tasted and approved by those who daily sat at my table. At present, once the children have taken their path, I have again innovated my menu with recipes that I stopped doing for a long time or with others that I had not tried from many which my mom wrote to me and that, with the desire to pamper dad, she would look for to flatter him. In honor of the truth, my mom also liked a lot good food, although she, thanks to Carmela, rarely went into the kitchen, only on special occasions to make some dessert, an entry or something similar. She had a real passion for the recipes and she came to have an impressive collection. When someone provided her with one, she experimented it and subjected it to the judgement of dad; if he liked it, it entered the repertoire, and if not, she kept it in another notebook thinking that one of the family might like it; of course, there were many that were not brought to trial. Mom always respected the copyright of that countless recipes, along with the title she settled the origin. Her dad was born in the Hacienda and being an orphan, she was not of elaborate meals or of celebrating anything. But, despite this, grandma, more cosmopolitan, enjoyed good food and traditions. Mom used to say that when she was a child, Christmas Eve was not celebrated at her house; grandpa, as I mentioned, did not have the habit. But for Christmas Day, grandma would arrange a tasty meal. The cuisine of the Campeche region, its origin, is very different from that of other parts of the country. The variety of its ingredients goes from the autochthonous, as the Achiote, to mention one, up to the Europeans: the saffron or the Dutch Ball Cheese covered with red wax, whose use was generalized in the southeast because the ships that came for Palo de Tinte or for other woods brought it like ballast among other goods. Likewise, the pirates enriched it by bringing to its port various spices of the Caribbean. In short, it is a mixed cuisine with multiple colors and flavors. In the year of 1929, Mrs. Adela Lily Mena de Castro published the book “Cocina Campechana”, which was a success in the city of Campeche. Mrs. Lily was a distinguished person, native from that place, who had taken special courses in cooking and pastries abroad. My granny gave mom this publication that would turn later on into her first cookbook. Both shared this passion, so she also wrote to her several booklets of formulas: soups, ice creams, desserts and stews… I keep a small one, with dark blue and black streaks cover, scraped by the use, very peculiar, she titled it: Stews I like, for Chabel. Of the many formulas written there that caught my attention, I transcribe one because of the way in which it is written and the quantities specified are still in reales: (eight real, one peso; four reales 50 cents and two reales 25 cents) MOLE All afternoon the turkey is parboiled; the next day fry the preys. Then, grind the sesame, ½ pound; 4 slices of toasted bread; grind color chilies, one real; enough tomatoes, ½ bar of cinnamon chocolate, toasted almonds, onion and garlic, all ground, melt it in the turkey broth and strain it, put enough salt, boil the broth with enough lard, until it is thick and move so that it does not burn and then throw the preys in it. Mom would get linked like one more ring in the chain of this tradition; I would do it too later on. She and I were very close, she was for me the person in whom I could find the solution to any difficulty that was presented, being of any nature; I accepted all her suggestions with closed eyes, she never imposed, she was subtle, she was characterized by her kindness and prudence. When I got married, she made me a cookbook and, on some occasions, she gave me some more, but when she really flipped out in the writing, was a year after my dad died, with the subtitle: recipes that I have collected for forty years, and the dedications: “Only my love for you could induce me to undertake this ´Roman Work´… this way I feel that I help you and continue”, she began a formidable company, twelve cookbooks!, yes, twelve, those of hard cover and with five hundred sheets, from La Tarjeta, (stationary that was an institution of Puebla in the second half of the twentieth century.) a true culinary treasure perfectly organized: a notebook of meats and entrails, two of sweets, one more of cakes, another one of Christmas desserts, nor what to say the one of pastas, for everyday and for special occasions, the one of corn and tortillas, and… so many more that ended up having as an impulse her great love: “ For my dear Faty: with the desire to help you, even after having gone away forever… My hands and the hours fly when it comes to copying recipes for you”. Those exquisite notebooks with allusive linings and their markers are now my source of inspiration; yes, it continues and still helps me. This morning, reviewing those cookbooks, Carmela´s image came to my memory when I asked her: “Mrs. Chabela, what will we eat today?” This rite was repeated daily, and mom, looking in her notebooks, arranged the meal very carefully; Carmela, in turn, asked her to read the recipe, with that it was enough to do it with care. Now, when I remember that moment, I wonder why would she ask her to read it for her if she knew how to read and she used to read a lot. I suppose that, on having listened to her, she would memorize it and that way she began her daily routine: go to the market to buy what she needed for the menu of the day; while we lived downtown, to the market “La Victoria”; when we moved from home, to the market “mercadito del Carmen”. My family, when I was born, was composed of father, mother, maternal grandmother – who had widowed two years before -, a brother: Polo; Carmela Perez, who was my mom´s cook practically since she got married, and Carmen Contreras Sanchez, my nanny. This family structure remained unchanged until my grandmother died; I was twelve years old then. We had no close relatives in Puebla. My dad was Spanish, he had settled in Campeche, where he met my mom. She was a native of that state. Gustavo, my cousin, who was fifteen years old when his dad died, son of my mother´s only sister, came to live with us for a short time so he could finish his studies; further on, in due time, his brother and sisters would come: Eduardo, Zoila and Carmen Maria. During a period more or less long, Aunt Estelita lived here with her family; she was a very dear cousin to mom. Some years later, several cousins from Campeche stayed in the house, only for short seasons, because there was no teacher´s career; so the reduced of our family´s core fostered a great union among us, it was my perfect world, the one which I hoped that would never change. I perceived the love and affection through its acting and this shaped me. Thanks to the enormous confidence that flowed between mom and I, I was subject of many testimonies which, in her eloquent conversation, transmitted; so many stories and anecdotes of family or contemporaries; experiences lived in environments totally oblivious to mine; conversations splashed with emotion and affection.