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I consider myself a fairly able cook. Not to say I haven’t had a mishap or two (or ten) in my day, but for the most part, I’m able to hold my own in the kitchen. The kitchen is a place of comfort to me. My mom is an amazing cook. I vividly recall several of her past elaborate menus for holiday meals and mile-high desserts for no occasion at all. Suffice to say, being in the kitchen, for me, is the very definition of being home.
Since both kids are at curious and helpful ages, we spend quite a bit of time “creating” in the kitchen. I try to encourage as much healthy eating as the next concerned mom, but baking cookies is one of our favorite rainy (or sunny, cloudy, or snowy) day activities. They love it, and I do too. Today—a sunny summer day—we baked peanut butter oatmeal cookies. As they were cooling and the kids were eyeballing the racks quite lovingly, I started thinking about cultural implications in the kitchen.
While pregnant with Bear, I ate macaroni and cheese in the way most people use oxygen to breathe; by this I mean my cravings were consistent and persistent to the point of almost seeming involuntary. Suffice to say, I’m not too surprised my son is a macaroni and cheese addict. He’s the epitome of a picky eater, but he will never turn down a bowl of cheesy pasta goodness. Never.
I often wonder what the pregnancy experience was like for Beauty’s birth mom. Did she have strong cravings or aversions? It’s hard for me to even take a guess at either since Beauty is my “eat anything” girl. She will literally eat anything you put before her (and trust me, I realize what a blessing this is!). Being how we’re a pretty predictable family in our routines, I started researching ways to make this Christmas (and yes, I know it’s only August—I’m a planner!) a beautiful culinary blend of American and Guatemalan cuisine. Well, let me tell you…this menu won’t win any awards for being balanced or even logical, but here are the main components: macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, punch, tamales, and vegetables. The kids offered up “veggies” rather generously when I explained we needed to round the meal out a bit. (Oh, and I can’t forget cookies. They were actually the top pick of both kids until I delivered the “cookies are a treat or a dessert, not necessarily a full-fledged meal” speech—the same one I’ve delivered at least six times in the past two months.) So here’s the obvious breakdown: the nuggets and macaroni and cheese serve as the American(ized) cuisine, and veggies a staple. In my research of Guatemalan holiday celebrations, I found a lot of info suggesting a traditional Christmas Eve celebratory dinner consisted in part of punch and tamales. Punch? No problem. I can do punch. Tamales? Color me intimidated.
Well, at least it’s August so I’ll have time to perfect my tamale recipe, right?
Right?
Right.
I’m actually really excited to jump in on this undertaking. I want so much for our Christmas Eve meal to become a tradition of blended cultures and cuisine (and it will be even trickier once our Ethiopian son arrives, I’m sure). I want Beauty to always recognize that we celebrate her Guatemalan heritage while embracing and celebrating our very American lifestyle. It might not be the “ideal” menu but sometimes it’s more the meaning in and behind the food that makes the memories than the menu itself.
Oh, and if anyone has a foolproof recipe for tamales, please send it my way!
