{"id":169,"date":"2020-06-02T02:40:07","date_gmt":"2020-06-02T02:40:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/?p=169"},"modified":"2020-06-02T02:44:07","modified_gmt":"2020-06-02T02:44:07","slug":"remembrance-of-food","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/remembrance-of-food\/","title":{"rendered":"Remembrance of Food"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
by Carlos D. Otero Acevedo<\/h6>\n\n\n\n

Who am I as an eater? As a Puerto Rican, my ancestors, African slaves, the indigenous people of the Caribbean, and Spanish conquistadors, all shaped my eating habits. When I went to Spain, I was amazed by all the foods we shared, the most impactful to me being tortillas. One of the dishes I grew up eating was tortilla Espa\u00f1ola, which would roughly translate to Spanish omelet. In Spain, the same dish, potato omelet was simply called just that, tortilla de papas. This is a far cry from what would normally be referred to as tortillas in the United States and Mexico, which are made of flour or corn, not eggs and potatoes. From the indigenous people, I think of so many of our fruits, like guan\u00e1bana, pumpkins, and pineapples. I always knew it was my birthday because that\u2019s the time when one of my favorite fruits, quenepas, are in season. And from the Africans, I think of coffee, which is such an integral part of not just my history, but the country\u2019s, due to us being a major producer of coffee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I would like to think I am a grateful eater. Though it may just be years of social conditioning, I can never sit down to eat (or watch anyone else eat for that matter) without unleashing a flurry of sincerely-felt statements. Whether it be a heartfelt thanks to the cook\/s, an ode to those who made acquiring the ingredients possible, a hopeful expression to those I am to eat with, or all of the above, all of these form an integral part of the beauty of eating to me. And as for the act of eating in and of itself, I have no qualms about naming eating as one of my two favorite activities (the other being sleeping). I would like to think I am an adventurous eater. I will gleefully take any and every opportunity to eat anything I have never before had the pleasure of tasting. And thankfully, I\u2019ve had the privilege of trying quite a lot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I first started writing about my food experiences, I was quite intimidated. The fork and the pen were never previously things I had held simultaneously. I was even more intimidated when I heard my peers so elegantly describe the flavors and textures of our meals with such apparent ease. But very early into the process, I discovered something that was rather surprising to me. The food I ate was\u2026 familiar. It first started during our tasting of shortbread cookies, each made of a different grain: toasted rye, spelt, corn, buckwheat, etc. Whilst I desperately tried to pick apart what made each of them unique, a singular thought lay at the back of my mind: why do I feel like I\u2019m at my grandmother\u2019s house? In my mind, I could feel the uncomfortable cushion that laid on each of the seats at my grandmother\u2019s living room table. I could hear the telenovela wife\u2019s melodramatic reaction at finding out her husband had cheated on her. I could smell the freshly bought bread from the nearby panader\u00eda. I could see the wilting flowers that were just a few days past their prime. And, perhaps most relevantly, I could taste three butter cookies I had frantically shoved in my mouth so that my aunt couldn\u2019t take them away from me. After such a vivid experience, I decided to lean into the world of my wandering mind and go down memory lane whenever I could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I believe no other experience was quite as vivid as the day I tried to get a Chinese visa in Seattle. As the travel agency who could procure the visa resided in Chinatown, I decided to eat there as well. My friend, who just so happened to be in Seattle that very day, suggested Dim sum, a Cantonese style of cooking consisting of small bite-sized portions of food served in small steamer baskets or on a small plate. I had never heard of it, so I readily agreed to try something new and offered to pay for both our meals. As we sat down, I patiently waited to be given a menu. And suddenly, a lady pushing a cart came next to our table and began pointing at food that was inside the cart, all on little plates. She seemed to be instructing us to point at the food, so we did, and the woman silently placed it on our table. I thought it was so nice of the restaurant to be giving us free food and so I kept pointing at even more dishes. It was only after a second cart came by that I realized that our bounty was not due to the restaurant\u2019s unending generosity. They were expecting compensation for every one of those little dishes. My friend had already begun eating. There was no turning back. So, to the dismay of my wallet, we stayed and went considerably over-budget.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While our meal was very delicious, two dishes in particular stood out to me. The first was a plate of shrimp with walnuts, covered in a sauce that looked eerily similar to\u2026 well, bird poop. Shrimp has a special place in my heart. Growing up on the island of Puerto Rico shrimp, or camarones, are quite a common sight. From shrimp-filled mofongo, a dish consisting of mashed and later fried plantains, empanadillas de camarones, otherwise known as fried turnovers, to asopao de camarones, which is a particular kind of shrimp and rice stew. Though, on this occasion, the shrimp reminded me of honey-walnut shrimp, my all-time favorite dish at Panda Express. However, these shrimp were creamier, and I would argue, far better. They were my favorite dish of the evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Dim sum shrimp<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

The second dish that made an impression was something I could only really describe as sweet bread. While I was not at all drawn to it when I first saw it, it was one of only two desserts. And I, as a person with an absolutely gargantuan sweet tooth, felt the need to partake in both. When I finally tasted it, I was met with quite the surprise. It tasted exactly like Mexican conchas. I had only ever had them once before. Last year, I went to a D\u00eda de los Muertos celebration. As I chewed the sweet bread, I could once again see the ofrenda as though I was still there, surrounded by people sharing stories of their loved ones. I chuckled, as I remembered someone telling me about their grandma and how much of a hard-core stoner she was. Meanwhile, I regaled her with a story of my grandmother and her bootleg alcohol operation. While the taste itself nothing to write home about, I will forever relive those lovely memories each time I eat breads like those again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Dim sum sweet bread<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

People who know me well will be aware of the fact that my mom is an avid shopper. I, on the other hand, am not. Yet despite this clash of opinion, I had to accompany my mom through stores constantly. Whether this was because she wanted to spend time with me or if she needed someone to carry her plethora of bags and purses is still being discussed by scholars around the globe. One of the few places I did actually enjoy going was Costco. The large number of free samples, along with their huge selection of books (which I seldom bought), made it quite the enjoyable experience. So imagine my glee at finding out that our field trip to the Culinary Breeding Network Variety Showcase was like Costco sampling on steroids. I was ecstatic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Among the many things I sampled that day was a cute, little square with an orange dollop on top that kind of looked like an orange. Since it looked like a sweet pastry, I immediately gravitated towards it. But when I finally put it in my mouth, I was exposed to a rather\u2026 unexpected flavor profile. To start, the orange dollop was not citrusy. It was pumpkin. And unfortunately, the taste very clearly reminded me of one of my mom\u2019s many fad diets, as one of them involved cutting large chunks of grocery store pumpkin and only boiling them. On the same note, I also partook in a plate where beets were the star. This time, I was reminded of the horror that were my high school lunches. Almost every day we had the same meal: rice, beans, baked chicken, and beets. And while I\u2019m not against those foods themselves, that particular combination certainly did not do it for me. And sadly, neither did that beet dish. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The beets<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Some of the foods I ate that day were very tasty. The first dish that treated my massive penchant for sweets was one that looked very much like sandwichitos de mezcla. Growing up, these bite-sized sandwiches, filled with what I believe is some supposed cheese-like substance, were a staple at school potlucks. But this particular dish looked more cake-like than bread-like. When I tasted it, I realized the orange coloring was not \u201ccheese\u201d, but rather a sort of melon paste, and it immediately brought to mind a conversation I had so often had as a child. I was always vexed at why watermelon, cantaloupe, and honeydew, three different, albeit similarly shaped fruits, were all referred to as mel\u00f3n by many of my family members. I remember feeling so passionate about such a strange subject, almost as if this crusade for specificity would lead to world peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Melon madness<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps my most pleasant surprise of the trip was that there were not one, not two, but five different kinds of ice cream present, undoubtedly the holy grail of desserts in my view. My favorite ice creams of the day were Yaupon Holly tea and passion fruit. While both of these were delicious, I have a deep connection to passion fruit ice cream, or rather, helado de parcha. As I ate the passion fruit ice cream, I was reminded of the little carts all across the Spanish colonial part of my capital city, San Juan, and the city of Ponce to the south of Puerto Rico. One of them even showed up in front of my high school from time to time. While the available flavors varied, passion fruit (as well as coconut) were always available. I felt, for a moment, as if I were at El Morro, an old, Spanish colonial defensive structure that is now a perfect destination to fly kites, with its large hill, open space, and constant wind due to it being right by the Atlantic Ocean. I could feel the breeze and the helado cooling me down and giving me some respite from the relentless tropical sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Living in the United States these last two and a half years, while I might have had the occasional craving, I don\u2019t believe I had ever truly missed the food I grew up on. And after reminiscing about so many of the them, I still don\u2019t think that\u2019s the case. There\u2019s no doubt that the world is filled with all sorts of different ingredients and different ways of cooking them, but they\u2019re also so similar. So much of what we eat is reminiscent of something else, whether it be from the similarities in its creation and\/or the life experiences we have that connect them. In a way, eating is something highly individual. Our experience eating the food is unique to our own special set of circumstances. Due to this, food can only be understood in context. And beyond matters of sourcing and accessibility to food, eating can be such an intensely social activity. I can only think of building friendships through food and how one of the rawest expressions of love is a person\u2019s choice to cook specifically for you. If nothing else, transubstantiating my eating experiences into words on paper has served as a reminder to me of the power of food and how it\u2019s shaped me. And for that, I am grateful<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by Carlos D. Otero Acevedo Who am I as an eater? As a Puerto Rican, my ancestors, African slaves, the indigenous people of the Caribbean, and Spanish conquistadors, all shaped my eating habits. When I went to Spain, I was amazed by all the foods we shared, the most impactful to me being tortillas. One […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":26,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4],"tags":[],"geo":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/169"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/26"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=169"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/169\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":174,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/169\/revisions\/174"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=169"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=169"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.evergreen.edu\/cefie-portfolio-s20-arn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=169"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}