Archive

Culture/Cultura

It’s been 12 years this month that my Abuelo passed away.  He was such a funny man and always made lite out of any situation.  He was a character all by himself.  He had a way of giving everyone he met a nickname.  Much like my Abuela, he was great in the kitchen. My Abuelo was a man’s man – “A Mexican Man” who prided himself in being dapper, and grooming himself to the tea.  I can still smell the Tres Flores (hair grease) he would add to his super straight hair to make sure it stayed in place.  He had that greaser come over look everyone is sporting these days.  I would get a kick out of watching him work as one strand of hair would fall to his face.  If it was out of place you knew he had been working hard.

photo(3)I remember one time driving to Tijuana to visit them.  We always had a great feast and an assortment of food.  But this particular time my Abuelo wanted “Tortillas De Harina.”   My Abuela didn’t want to make them because she had been cooking all day.  Abuelo kept insisting with no luck.  He said, “Hasta con los pies puedo hacer las tortillas de tan facil!”.  Then Abuela quickly responded, “Ponte hacerlas pues.  Yo te hago la harina y tu las haces.”  Everyone there started antagonizing him!  He was gonna prove his point – making tortillas is a breeze!  Abuela quickly got the mix together and handed it over with that “prove me wrong” attitude.

Abuelo rolls up his pant legs and grabs a piece of dough, throws it on the dining room floor and says, “Ponme el Sinaloense!!”  Bam, the song went on.  Not even sure how or who put it on in an instant.  The song started and he started to dance around the dough and with his feet he began to shape the tortilla. Everyone gathered and we were all laughing, having a great time.   I believe I was a teen at the time and wasn’t sure what to think but it was such a big deal in the family.  We often talk about it and laugh uncontrollably.  Abuelo era bien ocurente.  He was such a witty, impulsive man.

So he proved Abuela wrong and she went to work.  Nevertheless, we had fresh tortillas with our meal that day.

Abuelo, I miss you and you are forever in my memories and my heart.

 

(Desplacese hacia abajo para leer en Español.)

YouTube has been a very amazing adventure AND a challenge for my life and that of my Abuela.  We have both learned so much about so many things.  Funny enough, I never thought my Abuela at her age, would be thinking about YouTube subscribers, Instagram and Facebook. LOL  Sometimes I wonder how much is too much to share about us?  Nevertheless, we have put ourselves out there for the world to see and despite the risk,  we have had a lot of positive feedback.  In our free time together, I try and read to her as many messages as I can and boy, does she enjoy hearing what you all have to say.  But along with the positive comments, comes the reality that there will always be negative comments.  Sadly, the few negative comments that we do receive are usually the ones that linger the longest.  I believe that those negative comments come from people who do not really know much about what we are doing and why we record the videos.  I also believe they say negative things because they do not really know my story.  I say “my story” even though this channel is really about my abuela and her cooking because I am the producer of our show.  I am the one who originally wanted to document my grandmother’s recipes, so even though these videos are about Abuela, they reflect my purpose.

If you have been following us for a while, you know that Abuela is an immigrant from Mexico.  My mom is also born in Mexico and came to the states as a teenager.  Luckily for me, I had parents who still had deep roots in Mexico, so we were privileged to visit family annually.  I loved our trips to the mother land–visiting family from both my mom and dad’s side of the family.  And of course I had my Abuelos whom lived very close to us for a large duration of my childhood.  So one could say, “I was never too far from my roots.”  I do not ever recall being embarrassed of who I was or even where my family was from.  Being Mexican was never a shameful thing.  In fact, my parents never gave me a reason to feel ashamed of my heritage.  My dad would not even allow me to speak in English at home.  Especially if we visited Mexico, we were not allowed to speak in English.  If I spoke English with my siblings, I got the “Ojo de Aguila,” and sometimes–something worse.

I remember on my trips to Mexico some kids would make fun of me.  Mostly because my Spanish wasn’t perfect.  “How dare she not know how to speak perfect Spanish,” I would imagine the kids saying. “Mira, ya se cree gringa.”  It made me so sad.  I wanted to fit in.  They were my people … so I thought.  And I wanted to be part of what they were.  Fortunately, my cousins always had my back.  If it was not for them I probably would not have enjoyed my trips as much.  But we had so much fun.  I loved venturing out with them and being free to walk the streets without adult supervision.  Going to las tienditas down the streets to buy all kinds of candies and meeting neighborhood kids.  So many cool memories that over power my negative experiences.  But still, the rejection was pretty saddening–and lingers in my memory.

You see, it wasn’t my decision that my parents and abuelos migrated to the states.  And it’s definitely not my decision to be born in the United States.  It is what it is.  I love who I am– a MEXICAN-AMERICAN.  I embrace it as a culture of it’s own.  There is no way that anyone can hold it against me that I am not a full blown Mexicana (whatever that means to them).  I wasn’t born there.  I never lived there.  I only visited in the summers.  And there is no way anyone can hold it against me that I am not like the gringo next door who ONLY speaks English.  How can that even be?  My ancestors are from Mexico.

So when I get comments from people calling me “Malinche,” or “sell out” for speaking English during traditional Mexican cooking, 010006-MexAmerican or saying my Spanish sucks (among other things), it does hurt a little.  Because it’s not something that I do on purpose to shun my people or because I’m embarrassed, like some say I am.  How they come up with that is beyond me.  If I was embarrassed, why would I even let the whole world into our lives?  Those who know me personally know that I love my roots, I love who I am and I embrace it all.

I’m sure a lot of you know that as each generation passes  a lot of things get lost.  Things like language, customs, traditions and even food.  So this is why I continue to make videos with my Abuela.  For people like me who want to remember the little things that are easily forgotten.  People like my kids who have a dad who is 3rd generation and has learned Spanish in school.  For people who have never visited Mexico but wish they could have.  People who miss their Abuela’s cooking and never learned how to make it.  People who never got a chance to know what it’s like to embrace their Mexican side.  Bi-racials who didn’t grow up with their Mexican family.  And for those who just love some real Traditional Mexican cooking.  These videos are for me, my kids, their kids.  For you, your kids and their kids.  Food always brings us back to specific times and places because it opens up all our senses. After all, memories are made in the kitchen.

For those who have allowed us into your home and have embraced us as we are, and as I am, I say thank you.  I appreciate all your beautiful messages.  For you, I will continue to publish our videos.

Being Mexican-American is a beautiful thing and I don’t apologize for it.

———

YouYube ha sido una aventura muy impresionante y un reto par mi vida y la de mi Abuela.  Las dos hemos aprendido mucho sobre muchas cosas.  Curiosamente, nunca pense que mi Abuela, a su edad, estaria pensando en los suscriptores de YouTube, Instagram y Facebook.  A veces me pregunto cuanto sera demasiado para compartir acerca de nosotros?  Sin embargo, nos hemos puesto para que el mundo ea y apesar del riesgo, hemos tenido una respuesta muy positiva.  En nuestro tiempo libre juntas, trato de leer tantos mensajes como pueda y ella disfruta de escuchar los que todos ustedes tienen que decir.  Pero junto con los comentarios positivo, viene la realidad de que siempre habra’ comentarios negativos.  Lamentablemente, los pocos comentarios negativos que nosotros recibimos son generalmente los que afectan mas.  Creto que esos comentarios negativos vienen de personas que realmente no saben mucho acerca de lo que estamos haciendo y por que’ es que grabamos los videos.  También creo que dicen cosas negativas porque no saben muy bien mi hisotria.  Y dogo “mi historia” porque yo soy la productora del show.  Y soy la que originalmente quería documentar las recetas de mi Abuela, así que aunque estos videos son sobre Abuela, reflejan mi proposito.

Si usted nos ha estado siguiendo por un tiempo, usted sabe que la Abuela es una inmigrante de Mexico.  Mi madre también nacio en Mésico y vino a los Estados como un adolescente.  Por suerte, tuve padres que aún tenían profundas raíces en México, por lo que tuvimos el privilegio de visitar a la familia cada año.  Me encantó nuestros viajes a la tierra madre-visitando a sus familias, tanto la de de mi madre y el lado de mi padre.  Y por supuesto, yo tenía a mis Abuelos quien vivíeron muy cerca de nosotros por una gran duración de mi infancia. así que se podría decir que “Nunca estuve demasiado lejos de mis raíces”.  Yo no me recuerdo estar avergonzada de quien yo era, yo o incluso de donde mi familia era.  Ser Mexicana nunca fue una cosa vergonzosa.  De hecho, mis padre ni siquiera me permitía hablar en Ingles en casa.  Especialmente si visitabamos a Mexico, no se nos permitiá hablar en Inglés con mis hermanos.  Me daban el “Ojo de Aguila”, y aveces algo peor.

Recuerdo que en mis viajes a México algunos niños se burlaban de mi.  Sobre todo porque mi español no era perfecto.  “Como se que no habla bien el Español siendo Mexicana?”  me imagino a los niños diciendo, “Mira, ya se cree gringa.”  Me hizo tan triste.  Yo quería pertenecer.  Eran mi gente–eso era lo que yo pensaba.  Queria ser parte de lo que ellos eran.  Afortunadamente, mis primas siempre me respaldaban.  Si no fuera por ellas, probablemente no habría disfrutado de mis viajes.  Pero nos divertimos much.  Me encantaba salir con ellas a por las calles para comprar todo timpo de dulce y tambien conocer niños del barrio.  Tantos recuerdos bonitos que sobrepasan mis experiencias negativas.  Pero aún asi, el rechazo era bastante triste-y perdura en mi memoria.

No fue mi decisión de que mis padres y abuelos enmigraran a los Estados.  Y definitivamente no es mi culpa que yo nací en Los Estados Unidos.  Asi fue mi destino.  Me encanta lo que soy–una Mexicana Americana.  Yo lo tomo com una cultura en si mismo.  No hay porque acusarme que yo no soy una Mexicana de Mexico.  Yo no nací alla.  Yo nunca viví alla.  Sólo estuve viajaba para Mexico en los veranos.  Y no hay porque condenarme de que yo no soy como el gringo de al lado que sólo habla Inglés.  Como puede ser?  Mis antepasados son de México, no yo.  Y no lo digo por orgullo.  Lo digo porque es la realidad.

Así que cuando recio comentarios de la gente que me llama “Malinche”, o “vendida” por hablar Inglés mientras cocinamos comida tradicional Mexicana., o cuando dicen que mi español es horrible (entre otras cosas), me duele un poco.  Porque no es algo que hago con el propósito de huir de mi gente o porque me da vergüenza, como algunos dicen.  Por que dejar entrar a todo el mundo en nuestras vidas?  Los que me conocen personalmente saben que amo a mis ráices, me encanta lo que soy.

Estoy segura que muchos de ustedes saben que con cada generación que pasa una gran cantidad de cosas se pierden.  Cosas como el lenguaje, las costumbres, las tradiciones y hasta la comida.  Asi que es por eso que sigo haciendo ideos con mi Abuela.  Para la gente com yo, que quieren recordar las pequeñas cosas que se ovidan fácilmente.  La gente com mis niños que tienen un padre que es tercera generación en E.E.U.U y que ha tenido que aprender español en la escuela.  Para las personas que nunca han visitado a Mexico, pero que deseaban visitar.  las personas que extrañan las comidas de sus abuelas y nunca aprendieron cómo hacerlas.  Las personas que nunca tuieron la oportunidad de saber lo que se siente al aceptar su lado Mexicano.  Gente birraciales que no creció con su familia Mexicana y ahora buscan de saber.  Y para aquellos que les encanta un abuena cocina Mexicana.  Estos videos son par mí, para mi hijos y los hijos de mi hijos.  Para ustedes, sus hijos y los hijos de sus hijos.  La cocina siempre nos trae du vuelta a tiempos y lugares especificos porque abre todos nuestros sntidos.  Después de todo, los recuerdos se hacen en la cocina.

Para los que nos han permitido en su casa y nos han aceptado como somos… como soy, les doy las gracias!  Agradezco todos sus mensajes hermosos.  Para ustedes voy a seguir pulicando nuestros videos.

Ser Mexicana-Estadounidense es una cosa hermosa y no me disculpo por ello.

Both of my parents were born in Mexico and at a very young age they entered the work force.  We all know that getting an education in Mexico can be hard if you are not part of the elite group.  But times are definitely changing.  I do see many young people in Mexico getting the opportunity for higher education these days.

I remember when I was a kid and old enough to stay home alone and watch my 2 siblings (well not really alone because family always lived in our back house), I would have so much fun.  My dad would go to work at 3:30 pm and my mom wouldn’t be home till 6ish.  3 hours of bliss!

My dad was a very strict man.  He thought our school homework wasn’t enough.  He said the education system wasn’t as good as all the other countries and we were behind everyone else.  So he would give us homework on top of our school homework.  I remember having to learn my multiplications in 1st grade, and the US map, Mexican map, and South American map in 3rd grade.  In 5th grade I had to learn the European map .  Not just the states but the capitals.  Not only that, but I also had to read in Spanish for a period of time and then read it back to him the next day with out error.  I learned to quickly memorize things using my short term memory.  So please don’t ask me any of this information now.  LOL  Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama, Ecuador, Colombia, Venezuela, Peru, Chile Brazil, Uruguay, Paraguay… LOL I still remember.  Anyway, that was the ugly part about staying alone.  I guess it taught me responsibility because if I didn’t have my stuff memorized by the next day I would get a butt whoopin con la chancla!  Actually, I wish it was the chancla.

The bliss came when we would eat whatever we wanted, watch as much tv as we wanted, and played with our neighbors as much as we wanted.  3 hours seemed like a very long time in those days.  I remember taking sandwich bread and packing on the ice cream.  Anyone else ever do that?  My mom had gazillions of purses and they all had tons of change.  Those purses were everywhere.  I would stick my hand in them and it was like Christmas morning.  I would either ride my bike to the panaderia or send my brother to go bring us a stash of junk food (Now & Later of all flavors, chocolate, chile saladitos, and chips).  This was almost a daily ritual.  The other activity was T.V. Oooooooh I loved watching cartoons!  I was willing to get a beating from not memorizing my states just to watch T.V. until my dad caught on.  So he did something about it.  He would take and hide the T.V. wire.   It taught me how to be sneaky and get away with it.  LOL I would find that wire and enjoy my usual shows.  Until one day he wondered why the T.V. was hot to the touch without a wire.  Ooops!  Got caught!  He stopped taking the wire off and would just disconnect it and coil it in different directions and pass it through different things.  I figured out that it was boobie trapped.  Because of that, I developed a photographic memory. LOL  I still managed to watch it.

It’s obvious that my parents wanted a better life for me, for us.  They wanted to make sure that our future wouldn’t be as hard for us as it was for them.  They still managed to instill in us a work ethic and a drive to do more than is expected.  I always tried my best even thought most of the times it wasn’t enough.  Not sure if it was for fear or because somewhere along those lines, their speeches, advice and example worked on me.  But both my brother and I have managed to make something of this life.  It’s not easy being a kid from immigrant parents.  There is so much we have to go through to succeed but because of their hard work, dedication and drive to make a better future for us, our struggle has been lessened.

So, Mexican-Americans, Chicanos, Latinos, Hispanics:  Do your parents (ancestors) a favor, honor them with how you live.  Make something of yourself.  Stop wasting time feeling sorry for yourself or blaming others for where you are at today.  Don’t let their struggle be in vain.  Don’t let their fight for you be wasted.  Make them proud.  I doubt they did it just for themselves.  If not, then do it for you and your generations to come.

 

20141014-152142-55302351.jpg

Me on the left. 😉

photo 2(4)I am one of those people who enjoy  a smooth, creamy flavorful cup of coffee in the morning while reading or on my computer.  I also enjoy a good cup of Joe around 9pm.  My friends think I’m crazy for drinking coffee so late.  It doesn’t really effect me.  Matter of fact, it makes me feel cozy and ready for bed.  Especially during the winter time after putting on my pjs.  But a fruity cup of tea also hits the spot, especially in those moments when I want to feel fancy or European.  It’s like an escape to another dimension.  As a kid my mom always had me put in our patio a big jug full of water and tea bags for it to soak up the sun. I grew up drinking it.

I want to share with you a cold tea that I have really been enjoying this summer and even the previous summer.  All my friends love it, hot or cold and have even given them out as gifts.  It’s nothing fancy nor expensive and can be found in most grocery stores.  I get mine at Stater Bros. here in California.  It is, Mango Passionfruit by Stash. OHMYGOSH!!!  I dream about the moment when I can have a cold glass.  I don’t usually make a pitcher of it.  I just make a cup for me.  My son loves it so much he asked me to show him how to make it and now whenever he feels like having a cup of it he dives right into it.  It actually reminds me of the Passion fruit lemonade ice-tea from Starbucks.  So here are the directions:

Get a one of those plastic cups with a straw.  Depending how big it is, pour in some water leaving enough room for ice.  Squeeze half a lime or 1/4 a lemon (doesn’t really matter), add sugar to your liking (sometimes I don’t even add sugar).  Mix well before adding the tea bag and ice that way the sugar melts away and the tea bag won’t stick to your stirring utensil.  Then just add the ice and tea bag (one is enough for a normal size cup).

It’s that simple.  If you are making hot tea just add the tea bag and lemon or lime to it and sugar if desired.  It is amazing!

Take a moment and ephoto 1(5)njoy some tea time!  Blessings!

XOXOXOX

Silvia

Abuela’s Kitchen

Tortillitas de manteca Pa’ mama que esta culeca!

I grew up in a very conflicted home–of tradition vs the modern family.  We were your regular Mexican family working it’s way up to the American dream.  My dad came from a single parent home.  His dad had died when he was 3 years of age.  Soon as he was able to work, he did.  His first paying job was as a shoe shine boy at the age of 11.  He grew up into a hard working man.  He left Mexico during the Brasero program in pursuit of a better life for his brothers and sisters. (I could write a book on the Novela he lived from the time he was 3 to the time he left Mexico.).  Anyway, my dad was 21 when he came to the good ole’ US of A.

My mom’s first job in the states was as a house keeper at the age of 15.  In those days, so long as you had a Mexican Passport you were allowed to travel in and out of the United States.  Her, my uncle Chivo and my Abuelo would continuously get jobs in the states.  It wasn’t until 1971 that they received their residency and the family was able to move to California.  But my Abuelo’s only lived in California for short periods at a time and would go back to Mexico to live.  Their last residency in Mexico was in the border city of Tijuana before finally making California their permanent residence.

My mom and dad met at their work place and later married.  After they were married, they both quickly began their pursuit for a better life.  My dad quickly became foreman for his company and my mom began beauty school.  As we grew and as they had more responsibilities at their jobs, the traditional Mexican family unit was no longer traditionally Mexican.  My dad had 2 jobs.  He owned his own carpet cleaning company and did that from 8am to 2:30 pm.  He would come home and get ready for his night job as the night shirt foreman.  I remember getting home from school and he would be taking his power nap.  I would make his lunch and by the time I was done he was out the door by 3:30 pm.  A few hours later my mom would get home from work.  She owned her own beauty salon and it was growing by the day.  But she still made sure there was a home cooked meal for dinner every night.  90% of the time she would leave it ready before going to work.  Sometimes she would leave a chicken out for me to put in the oven.  I remember adding salt, pepper and lemon and throwing it in the oven.  My friends would laugh at the mix of ingredients I would use. We didn’t have the regular Mexican breakfast with eggs, beans, salsa and tortillas or the fresh enchiladas dinner.  That was rare and on occasion would happen on Sunday, the only day we were all home together.  Most of the time the meals my mom cooked were Cuban, or stuff she would invent herself.  She was surrounded by Cubans so it made sense.  There was a time when she would be talking and a Cuban accent would slip out.  The family even started calling her La Cubanita.photo 5(1)

The only traditional aspects we had of a Mexican family was the language and values.  I guess we were your traditional Mexican family living in the US.  We frequently took trips to Mexico to see family and for vacation.  I remember visiting my grandmother in Tijuana and someone would always make Tortillas de Harina.  When my uncle Jose would make them they would come out sooooooooooooo delicious!!!!  They were so soft, they would melt as soon as your front teeth would bite into them.  I loved adding butter to the tortilla and rolling it up.  It was the best!!!!  But my favorite memory I have when making tortillas was with my Abuela.  She would give me a ball of the tortilla dough and show me how to press it in my hands first.  We would do it together and sing, “Tortillitas de manteca pa’ mama que esta culeca”.  I remember having those same experiences with my mom but not too often because life here in the states was and is so different than life in Mexico. But she would also sing that song when we would make the tortillas.  Such fun times.  My kids haven’t had that experience yet.  I think today I will make tortillas and sing them the song as they play with their dough.

Experts say that we only use 10% of our brain’s capacity.  In fact, our brain has a very uniquely yet divine way of storing memories through our senses.  That is why I love food. LOL!  Food has a way of tapping into all of our “senses.”  When you begin to cut vegetables, herbs, meats or poultry, their mist flies into the air, then onto our skin and through our pores noses.  Boy, do I love cutting cilantro.  The smell just does something to me.  I don’t even know what it is.  After you cut your ingredients, you begin to cook them.  All the smells mesh together to produce an aroma so blissful it makes your tripas churn within.  Once that masterpiece is done you gently and strategically place it onto a plate and your eyes experience the beauty of our culinary creation.  Finally, the moment you were waiting for… tasting the masterpiece.  You take your fork, intricately pick up some of the succulent morsels of food and you lead it into the golden gates (or pearly gates if you whiten your teeth) and finally the marvelous  treasure of your process unfolds in a one of a kind experience.  You close your eyes with every bite and nod with approval like a Jedi Master as he watches their young padawans master their skills.

I receive so many messages from our subscribers telling me how our videos bring them back soooooo many memories of their childhood.  I believe in the kitchen is where most memories are made.  Why?  Because in the kitchen, all the senses are tapped and without even knowing, those tapped senses are connected to those around you at that moment.  This experience can happen anywhere not just in the kitchen.

Today, I made a pit stop at Walmart early in the morning before work to buy some D.O. FOR MY B.O. (deodorant) because I forgot to put it on at home (Happens A LOT!  Anyone else relate? No? Ok.).  photo(44)I was going to be at a middle school and knowing how cruel and blunt they can be, I was not going to take a risk of having a slight fowl smell.  I quickly went to the appropriate aisle grabbed a random stick, looked at my watch and noticed I still had some time so I leisurely walked back noticing all the things on display.  I saw the Picot and my mouth began to salivate.   All the memories of times with my aunt in TJ as kids making the Picot foam out of our mouths for kicks.  Then I ran into Pomada De La 41a192478a98e4b2e8deffeb6b9a226bCampana (Dr. Bell’s Pomade).  I breathed in and without even touching it, I instantly felt like the 10 year old who laid on Abuela’s bed and watched her rub her hands together with it to smooth over her face, freshly out of the shower.  Slowly the smell of the pomada would reached my nose and I would rest my body on her hard “Punto De Cruz” pillows like a baby who nestles in their mother’s arms.  photo

As adults, my kids may not have these same memories.  I may never use Pomada De La Campana but maybe I’ll share the fun experience of Picot.  Matter of fact, they WILL have different memories.  But in the kitchen, I will try to keep certain smells alive as we eat and commune with each other. I’m so grateful that my mom and Abuela are still able to help in cultivating some of those same beautiful memories for my kids–it’s what has made my life colorful.  Its life at its very best.


(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

 

photo(42)For many years, I spent time with my Abuelos.  I remember how much I loved to go to their house in Redondo Beach as a little kid.  My parents would go out on the weekends and they would leave us (my brother, sister and I) with them.  We would get so spoiled.  Pretty much got to do whatever we wanted.  They would let me stay up so late to watch a Mexican show which show cased “La India Maria”.  I loved that time.  But once we saw the lights of my parents’ car creep up, they would tell me to run and get under the covers.

There was a season when they lived in Tijuana, B.C. and we would visit them almost every weekend.  I loved heading out to the border.  I was not allowed to have candy (my parents were health freaks).  Buuuuuut when I was with my grandparents, I could have as much candy, chips, and soda as I wanted (granted I was sick to my stomach for days at a time).  My Abuela, my aunt (who is 1 year younger than me) and I would take long walks to the store in the evening down dirt roads.  I can still smell the dirt as the neighbors cleaned out there porches with water.  There were so many dogs in TJ.  I remember always being so scared.  But my Abuela always would tell me to say something that I faintly remember.  It went something like this, “Dios en mi…”  Well, that’s all I remember LOL!  As I grew into a teen and began to drive, my Abuelo would let me borrow the car and my aunt and I would drive to Down Town TJ!  It was kind of safe then.  We would visit the museum called, La Bola (not sure if that’s the real name).  We loved to go walking around a market called, Miguel Hidalgo.  Most of the time we wouldn’t even buy anything.  We just liked to head out.  I have so many awesome and funny memories of my times in Tijuana that I will write about soon.

But there was a time where I was going to college, and working 2 jobs.  Soon after I got married  and time with my Abuelos was rare.  My Abuelo was still alive during that time.  But he started getting sick.  I remember when he passed away, I took a big hit because he always moved me to think big.  He was a tempered man but one of the funniest men I knew.  I loved to joke with him and listen to him repeat the same jokes.  He always had jokes.  He would nick name everyone even if they didn’t know it.  Part of who I am I see it’s because of what I saw in him.  His joking, his love to talk and story tell.  I see that in me.  I went into radio for a while because I was intrigued as I would watch him record himself talking into a mic at all our gatherings or parties.  He sounded like a radio announcer.  So as a kid, I would do the same thing.  I made my own novelas and created my own sound effects out of whatever I had in sight and record them.  He was a character.  I look back and think, “How could I have been so careless and not have given them the time that they deserved.

Looking back it wasn’t so much that my life was soooo busy (even though I felt like it was).  I know I could have made more time to spend quality time with them.  But I didn’t.  Maybe because I was young and selfish.  Maybe because I thought there were far more important things to do.  I’m not quite sure.

I feel so blessed to still have one remaining grand parent and be able to spend that quality time that I once had as a kid and now get to enjoy as an adult and with my own children.  Once the generation of our grandparents is gone, we will no longer have first hand information of our ancestors, our culture, our lingo, our traditions and our food.  We will only be able to read about it and watch it either on TV, YouTube or any other media form.

I just want to encourage this generation.  If you have your grandparents still; take advantage of it.  They have so many hidden treasure that will only be seen by spending time with them.  You will hear crazy stories about them and their families, old school sayings, secret recipes and so much more.  Maybe you can’t spend time with them because of distance or “XYZ”  but there are other ways to communicate.  Give them a call.  You won’t regret it.  For those who have lost your abuelitos and miss them, my heart is with you.  May God’s peace rule over you today.

Blessings to you all.

Silvia

Since my daughter was born 12 years ago, I have had the privilege to say that I am part of 4 generations of women whom have been the first born of the family.   What ‘s even more amazing is that the 4 generations are still alive.  My Abuela was the first born, my mom (Abuela’s daughter) was the first born, I’m the first born and my daughter is also the first born.  It is so special to me to be able to share that with all of you.  God has granted me such a great blessing to be able to enjoy something so marvelous.

4 genAlthough my mom and Abuela seem so humble, meek, submissive and nice they are powerhouses!  One would think that because of all the hardships they have had to face, they would be defeated women.  But they are not.  They have managed to get up and continue life… with smiles and laughs.

In one way or another, the 4 of us have inherited many similar traits.  We have the natural “1st born” syndrome, which is obvious with our “people pleasing” behavior.  The one that is the most notorious for that is Abuela.  She is a human form of a cameleon–taking any shape or form just to make sure no one gets offended, hurt or feel left out.  She will give you her last dollar and even her last Coke just to make you feel good.  If you meet her be ready to be part of the family.

My mom is just like that (especially when it comes to her kids and grandchildren).  For example, once she gets the phone call that “we are on our way” (going over her house), she jumps to the kitchen to have something ready when we arrive.  It could be anything from delicious ice cold lemonade to a full on gourmet salad.  Notice I said salad.  That’s because she is a health freak.  Growing up she never bought us cereal that had sugar.  Man that was stressful! LOL!  Anyway,  I’ve been a healthy adult for the most part.  I probably owe it all to her.  It is the heart of a loving mother, always wanting to give others the best of what she has to offer.

As I write, I’m laying here thinking, “How do I fit into the “1st Born” syndrome.  I guess it’s hard to talk about ones self.  Just like my mom and Abuela, I’m a worry wart.  I think of every possible negative scenario and play it out in my head over and over again.  I worry about everyone and can’t rest until I either get a text or send some “random text” about anything just to see if they are okay.  So either they passed that down to me or it’s just part of being 1st born.

My daughter is also a people-pleaser.  She is always trying to do the right thing to make mom and dad happy.  She definitely is a leader in her own little way.  She isn’t afraid to take risks but not on account of hurting those around her.  She has a mind of her own and is very opinionated but always trying to say things in the nicest possible way.  When it comes to her friends, she will do anything to make sure they are happy (I’m like that too).  She is the best friend you can have.groupcoke2

I can’t tell you enough how honored I am to be part of this heritage.  The ladies in my life aren’t flashy, eccentric nor women who need and want the best of everything.  They do with what they have.  They aren’t domineering women who make you do what they want.  They would rather YOU do what you want.  They aren’t women who give up.  Nor will they let YOU give up.  They are humble, meek, simple yet strong women whom with a smile will lift you and encourage you to be the best that “YOU” can be.  I can only pray that my daughter and I inherit a portion of what they are.  They are an inspiration to me and to those around them.  And for that I honor them.

Silvia

 

 

 

Photo Credit: Mayra Ariza Photography

https://www.facebook.com/mayrarizaphoto?ref=br_tf

 

 

 

Hey guys!  I just want to take this time to thank all of you for your continual support!  You guys have been so nice, supportive and fun.  Abuela has had so much fun reading your comments and looking at all the pictures you guys send us.  It’s been such an amazing experience to see my Abuela’s eyes’ gleam with a new sense of purpose at 79 years of age and you have all made that happen.  Thank you!

We are so excited to announce that we just got our shirts and many of you have expressed that you would like to purchase one.  So here is the link to our PAYPAL.

basic_tshirt_template

Buy Now Button with Credit Cards

May God continue to bless you as you join us on our journey.

Again, thank you.

Silvia y Abuela

To order a T-Shirt, please take the following steps.

1. Click the PayPal button

2. Choose Payment Option.

3.  Input your shipping address.

4. And then click PAY NOW.

5. Next, Email me! with the size of your shirt preferred. (Small, Medium, Large, or XL)

.***Depending on shirt size/availability, shipping may take up to 5 – 7 days.

basic_tshirt_template

Buy Now Button with Credit Cards

Hey guys.  So It was my turn to cook this past weekend for our little family gathering with my grandmother.  I decided to cook lasagna and It was Da Bomb!! (If you want my easy quick recipe; leave a comment).  But I knew some how I had to incorporate something semi-Mexican for my Abuela.  So I decide to make my version of Camote Enmielado (Candied Yams).  I originally got this recipe from my sister-in-law several years ago.  I fell in love with it when she made it for one of our Thanksgiving parties.  So here is my version of her version. LOL  Super easy and quick to make.

This recipe makes enough for 10-12 people.

Ingredients

  • 1 Piloncillo
  • 3-4 Camotes/Yams
  • 1 Small can of Crushed Pineapple
  • Brown Sugar

1.  Cut the yams into smaller pieces and boil until soft.

2.  Boil the piloncillo with a little bit of water until it melts completely.  Let it boil for  about 5 mins. after is has melted away.

photo 1

3.  Peal and place yams in a pan.

photo(11)

4.  Pour the piloncillo on the yams.

photo 2

5.  Add the crushed pineapple all over the yams.

photo 3

6.  Sprinkle in some brown sugar on top. This is optional.  I added some but think It could have done with out.  If you don’t have piloncillo in your area; just use brown sugar.  Sprinkle about 2 cups of brown sugar or as desired.

photo 4

You can also add some butter in it to give it a creamy texture.  (I left it out.)

7.  Bake for 30 mins at 350 degrees.

And Bam!  That’s it!  It was so good and Abuela approved.  If Abuela approves then I’m good to go!  She actually served herself a plate and commented that the pineapple made it very tasty!

Ok guys!  Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!  May we remember to thank our Lord for all the things He has done for us and for those things that are yet to come.

Dios me los Bendiga hoy y siempre!

Silvia

ps Let me know if you actually make it and send me some pix!