Corazon de Poeta

Family Recipe

–

Some families pass down money.
Some pass down land.
Mine passed down recipes for disaster.

Generational loneliness mixed into every pot of arroz my grandma made. Her secret ingredient was sadness. There was pain in the sofrito. She’d add spoonfuls of disappointment that she received when she thought she asked for a dash of love.

I cook just like her.
At least that’s what my dad said.
I wonder if he knows he cooks like her, too.

These recipes are written somewhere deeper than memory. And even when we try to change it, when we reach for a different sazon, we always return to familiar flavors.

Salt where there should have been sugar.
Crumbs where there should have been abundance.
Lime juice on open wounds.
We learned to crave the bitter.
We expected to get burned.

And still in the kitchen I wonder if every plate she made was an attempt to break the cycle.
If, like me and he, she too tried for years to get the recipe right-
sprinkling tears and hope into each bite.
Searching for a taste of love none of us had ever known.

– A. DJ ❤