Friday, December 3, 2010

Family Christmas - Arizona Style

We all have great memories of past family Holidays.  Even those of us who may have not had the best family life can cling to a small happy memory or two.  I am lucky that I had a great childhood in Arizona with many wonderful memories.  Most of them are surrounded by a loving family and friends.  I am not saying we were perfect, but we knew when to put away the knives and make the holidays special.

I have great memories of my family, cousins, aunts, and uncles all crammed into my Nana's house on Christmas Eve.  The smell of wonderful food wafting through the house.  My Godfather would grab the first tamale out of the pot, unwrap it from it's corn husk shell and gleefully eat it without the benefit of a plate or napkin.  Often spilling some of the tamale on my Nana's lace tablecloth. My Nana would look at him like he was a barbarian, but you knew that she was happy to have us there, and that she took a special pleasure in sharing her love through her food.

My other Godfather (yes I have two) would take the box of See's chocolates and poke holes in the bottom to find out what flavor they were.  If they weren't what he wanted then back in the box they would go to surprise someone else!

I loved it all....even the visits from Santa that were arranged for us kids.  Ralph (a family friend) would dress up  as Santa and "surprise" us with a visit on Christmas Eve when we were all together.  After Santa would leave, and our bellies were full, my aunt would pull one of us aside and quietly tell us to ask our parents if it was time to open the presents.  If the first attempt didn't work, she'd move on to the next kid until finally someone relented and the presents would be opened.  She never wanted to be identified as the one to start the present frenzy....but everyone knew.  Obviously, this became a game that we all loved playing. 

My mom learned a lot from her mother (my Nana) about food and how it brings people together in many different ways.  Today my mom still uses her talents in the kitchen to show us that she cares.  I am a long way from home and my path has been a good one, albiet a little rocky at points.  But I find that in this reflection on my family that I have inherited this love of sharing food with people as a way of showing I care.  I have shared my heritage with people in 4 states (Arizona, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Wisconsin).  Living in those places have influenced my cooking as well.  (I hold recipes for Jambalaya & MidWest Fish Frys in high regard as comfort food!)

This Christmas I will not be able to be in Arizona to be surrounded by my family. Work circumstances have conspired against it.  In order to avoid singing "Blue Christmas" all season, I am going to recreate some of my memories here in Wisconsin.....starting this weekend!

Tamales are very labor intensive, so I may be trying to make my paternal grandmother's version of enchiladas for Christmas Eve.  I made them (successfully) a few years ago, so I am going to try again. along with the typical beans and rice.  As a Mexican-American family we weren't against a good turkey or ham either....so I have fall-backs!

And what are the holidays without desserts?  This year will be my first attempt a biscochuelos (an anise-shortbread cookie).  It is funny that I am making these because as a child they were never my favorite.  But now, as an adult...I like them.  Also on the dessert menu is Bunelos (a Mexican version of fry-bread with a home-made brown sugar syrup).

My mother is a wonderful cook and I am lucky enough that she has shared many of her recipes with me.  I am not the cook that she is, but this year I am going to try to share my culinary memories with my extended family here in Wisconsin.  They may not know why I love each dish as I do, but they will understand that I am giving it to them from a place of caring.

(Mental note to self:  Get Mom to teach you to make Tortillas!)

Merry Christmas to everyone.  Feliz Navidad.  Love your family.  Cherish your memories.

No comments:

Post a Comment