Dos Mujeres, Una Cocina | Two Women, One Kitchen

Her way is always better. She won’t say it, but I know that’s what my mother thinks every afternoon when she walks into my kitchen. And it’s implied in very subtle ways. The way my mother rearranges the tupperware in my cabinets or the food in the fridge. The way she scrunches her nose as she watches me cook. Or the way she scrutinizes my purchases, frowning at their prices. “It’s not that you cook good, you just buy expensive ingredients,” she’ll say.

My kitchen is the size of a small cell. Room enough for only two: one to cook, one to watch but always one of us in the other's way. 

When I was a girl my mother used to call me into the kitchen while she cooked, commanding me to pay attention. Even though the kitchen was big enough for the both of us, I'd still get in her way; usually handing her the wrong items and asking too many questions. After a few ay Dios mío's and coño's my cooking lesson was over and my mother would exile me to the living room.

Many years later, my mother and I are titans, both vying for power in la cocina. I look forward to cooking holiday meals, creating my own traditions. My kitchen has become a place of solace, a place to stand and clear my head while cooking for others.  But in a galley kitchen like mine, it's too easy for my mother and I to clash. While I cook my mother will tiptoe to lean over me and criticize my technique, “That’s not the way I do it.” 

My mother wields the pilón; I pump the mini chopper. My mother blends peppers red and green, cloves of garlic, bulbs of onions, recao, cilantro and olive oil to make a large batch of sofrito. It is the base of her every meal.  I cook with sofrito so rarely that when I need it, I buy the ingredients, chop everything up and sauté it into my meal.

I shop at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's; I buy organic. My mother shops where she has coupons, scouring the neighborhood for the best prices. She goes one place for milk, another for eggs, somewhere for meats and so on. My mother will never pay full price for anything if she knows she can get it on sale.

My mother cooks her specialty dishes with ease, never having to consult a book, eyeballing ingredients. I rely on Food Network, printed-out recipes and measuring spoons. My mother trusts her culinary instinct. Mine are still being cultivated.

I am the occasional cook, making elaborate meals for a holiday or celebration. My mother cooks every day; it’s a part of who she is. I realized this the day I invited my parents over for Christmas dinner. I was going to cook the signature Puerto Rican meal: pernil, arrroz con gandules, potato salad.  My mother said she would bring pasteles.

The thought reminds me of childhood; watching my mother at the kitchen table late on Saturday night. A large pot at the center, sheets of wax paper in front of her, a ball of white twine. Wrapping each pastel in parchment paper like a present; humming to herself or the phone nestled between her shoulder and ear, talking with my madrina  It is an all day/ all night affair, an offering. And the culinary commitment secures my mother’s place as the master. I am still the apprentice.

My mother's pasteles are perfection. The masa is firm, filled with flavorful meat and neatly wrapped with care. And when cooked, it slipped out of its wrapping in one piece.

I do not want anyone else’s recipe other than hers. I cannot wait for the day for her to come over and share her pasteles recipe and technique with me. No matter how big or how small my kitchen is - there will always be room for my mother to stand beside me.  

A Thanksgiving cheers with my mother | 2013

This is a revised version of my essay Clash of Las Cocinas originally published on Being Latino, December 2010. 

My Mom. My Inspiration. #InspireCare

Growing up, my mom and I didn't always agree. I didn't understand her. She didn't understand me. She was old school. I was not. There were times I cringed when we were compared. And I spent most of my teenage years trying not to be like my mother.  

Then I grew up. Got a job. Moved out on my own. I got married...had a baby. I don't think I truly understood my mother, until I became a mother. Becoming a mother,  made me look back on my childhood in a completely different way. 

I looked at my mother in a completely different way.  

I realized that if I wanted to be a good mother to The Boy, I needed to be more like my mother.

My mother went without so that I could have. Growing up, I may not have had everything I wanted but I had everything I needed: a clean home, clean clothes, a hot meal. 

My mother was always more than willing to do everything for me, so long as I went to school and got good grades. She spoiled me in ways I could not understand, she did so much for me and expected nothing in return. Not even a thank you.

Over the last decade, I have watched my mother become the primary caregiver to my grandparents. And whenever anyone in our family needs help, she's always the first to offer. She gives so selflessly and she leaves me often in awe.  

During my pregnancy, I read countless of parenting books. Books on feeding, sleeping and parenting. But my first lesson on being a good mother, a good all around person came from my mother. 

I am not one of those people who longs to relive their younger years. But I wish I could go back in time and appreciate my mother a little more and to say thank you more often.

My mother and I still don't always agree. She is old school and I am not. We do not have the same taste in clothes, furniture or politics. She will still criticize the way I cook and clean. I'm okay with our differences. And I thank her every chance I get.  

But when it comes to being a mom, her advice is the one I'll always seek out first. For me, she is the measure of motherhood I want to live up to. She inspires me to the best mom I can be.  

  

***

For more than 125 years, Johnson & Johnson has been committed to serving the health care needs of others - especially mothers and children. Their history as a brand is pretty fascinating. Many of the products we take for granted, the products that are simply part of our every day lives - are because of Johnson & Johnson.   

It is estimated that Johnson & Johnson and its partners touch more than one billion people’s lives each day through health care products, services and various programs. 

This year at the LATISM 2012 conference, Johnson & Johnson will be showcasing some of these initiatives under the theme “global motherhood.” And I am so honored to be chosen to help raise awareness about important issues and some solutions that make a difference.

Johnson & Johnson has been a part of my life since I was a little girl. My mom always purchased Johnson & Johnson products. Now that I'm a mom, it's the brand I trust for my own family. And as a company, Johnson & Johnson's share many of the values my mother tried to instill in me. They are the same values I want to pass along to my son.

Johnson & Johnson is a company who is committed to:

• Saving and Improving Lives
• Building Health Care Capacity
• Preventing Diseases

If you are attending LATISM, I would love for you to stop by the Arboretum II Suite to talk with Johnson & Johnson and their partners about the work they do. I'll be there too! 

Together we can help them spread the word through social media about the challenges that mothers face around the world. 

You can inspire mothers like you to join them in helping other mothers by raising awareness about important issues and some of the solutions that make a difference.

BUT - You don't have to attend LATISM to learn more about Johnson & Johnson's endeavors to make the world a better place for mothers and children around the globe.

If you're on Twitter follow them @JNJStories and their #InspireCare hashtag.
I'll be tweeting throughout the conference.

Visit them on Facebook - Johnson's Baby. Or go directly to the website by clicking HERE

Note: These photos represent a few of the many programs supported by Johnson & Johnson and its partner organizations to serve the health and well-being needs of communities and people around the world. To read more about these programs and others that help us care for those in need, please visit our website: http://www.jnj.com/connect/caring/. 

*This is a sponsored post. All opinions shared are my own.

If It Works For Madonna...

I have loved Madonna since I was a in the 4th grade.  I remember the day when I walked to Sam Goody to buy the Like a Virgin tape.  That's right kids, I said tape.  I played the title song over and over again having no clue what the words meant but belted it out at the top of my lungs.  

And since that day in I have seen Madonna evolve over and over again.  She is hailed as the Queen of Reinvention.  Because she's always reinvented herself at just the right times of her life.  I've admired her for it.  She is fearless and thinks nothing of reinventing her image when it suits her.  And with every change, she's become more successful, more refined, more powerful and more fabulous.

Some of my favorite Madonna looks through the years

Today is Fadra's last Sunday hosting the Stream of Conciousness Meme post and it's about reinvention.  I don't participate often but since it's her last one and I've always enjoyed writing them - I decided to link up one last time.  And the theme of reinvention works with what I am going through right now. 


I am trying to reinvent myself.  Well, my outer self.  


I am sitting on the sofa as I type this; my entire body is sore from exercising.  Today was the third day in a row that I've made the conscious decision to work out.  To get in shape.  To live healthier.  To hopefully, live longer.  


I have been struggling with my weight for the last two years.   And last June I wrote a post about The Weight of Autism.  Thinking that I was going to make the effort.  But since that post, I've gained more weight.  I know what it is - I've spent the last few years craving comfort from all the wrong places.


And while the comfort I crave feels so good in the moment.  I know, it's time for me to seek comfort elsewhere.  


Because every time I step on the scale, I cringe.  


Every time I have to squeeze into a pair of jeans that used to fit, I curse myself. 


Every time I have to look for a shirt that conceals my muffin top, I hate it.


Every time I put something on only to realize it no longer fits, I wonder - how could I let this happen?


In less than 3 months I will be one more year closer to 40.   And in the last few months I've had some serious wake up calls regarding health and the choices I've been making.  


It's time to make changes.    


When I was in the 4th grade, I wanted to wear white lace gloves and black rubber bracelets because Madonna wore them.  


Decades later, I'm still taking lessons from the Madonna handbook.