Process Writing

The idea of thinking about how I write and why I write it is difficult. Sometimes I don’t know how to put my thoughts into words that are understandable. At other times the words just flow through my hand onto the screen.

                The majority of my writing is just a flow of thoughts. Literally. When beginning a piece, I think about what I would like to see on the page, and I write. My thoughts are formed into sentences and I even include the pauses and then later take them out. I write what I think and then I think about what I wrote. The revision process is odd, at least I think so. Once done writing my flow of thoughts, I go back and take out what I don’t like, reword some things here and there, maybe change a word or two. Sometimes if I don’t entirely like a sentence but like the thought behind it, I will copy it and then delete it, write a new one, paste the original, and then combine the two. It’s kind of an ongoing process. I don’t say I’m going to revise a piece after I am done writing a draft. It’s more like revising the draft while revising it.

                Frustration comes to me at the oddest times. Mainly when I am beginning and ending a piece is when I am frustrated the most. I want the beginning to be good, and so writing thoughts and flow has to start with a good first sentence, if not, then I already won’t like my own piece. As for the ending, I feel like I need to end it on either a leftover thought or something that’ll somehow be reflective of the piece. Until I find the right balance between the two, I tend to just fill the end with sentences and words that will hopefully give me a sense of completion.

                The reader’s comments were helpful. Sometimes I forget that I go off on tangents or that my thought aren’t completely coherent, and the comments made while in workshop and while on the blogs helped me see the points in each piece of work that needed to be clearer or something. I tend to just go off on a thought, forget to reread it, and then continue on. Other times I look over the draft and feel like inserting a new thought or phrase somewhere, and when the readers would comment on it, it would help me see whether it was a good decision or not. I also thought a lot about what the readers thought of my pieces. I want to make sure my perspectives are being clear, and with a reader, I see if they were or weren’t. Other times I would be proud about something that I had written and the readers would either be confused about it or didn’t like it at all, and I think in those kinds of moments were when I had to decide if I wanted my work to be reflective of the comments given to me or not. Most of the time they were, and that different forms of feedback I would be given would be incorporated into my pieces. At other times, I would be a little too prideful and keep what I originally wrote, but would either fix and edit to make it clearer or try to get it to what the readers wanted.

                I think throughout this quarter I reflected a lot of what food meant to me. Not only because the class was about food and travel, but it never made me realize how food plays an important role in my life. In the beginning, we wrote about memory and I chose to write about my family. In this past assignment I wrote about a perfect meal that defined my family, and many times in between I mentioned them. Homesickness is always brought up in conversation, and every time someone asks me if I am homesick, I say no. But, I either don’t want to admit the fact that I’m homesick, or I don’t realize it until I write, but I am. It is odd writing about them and not realizing that I miss them. And how food is intertwined with them and the feelings and memories I have. I crave Mexican food when I think of my mother, but am in a really good mood when I think about my brothers. The food I eat and see usually has a connection to my family somehow. Maybe I am over exaggerating a bit, but now I see that I do miss them. It sounds so cliché but missing my family wasn’t a thing last year. As a freshman, it was the hype of college and getting involved that distracted me from missing them. This year, it’s different. I think through this class I was able to channel my homesickness through writing and food. I think I’ll continue doing this writing about family unconsciously, since it seems to have helped this quarter.

Perfect Meal

                Perfect Meal Draft

                In a small crowded kitchen on the first floor of DeWaters, I was cooking rice and lemon pepper chicken. The sound of laughter and cooking jokes filled the air, along with the smell of caramelized onions and peppers, mixed in with tomato sauce. Chopped up vegetables and lemon juice covered the countertop and created a sticky mess for me to clean up.

                Never in my life have I been forced to cook an entire meal by myself. I have always been directed and ordered by my mother for the family dinner, making either a side dish or a small part of the meal. When my parents would be away, my siblings and I would come together and create a simple meal, dividing the work equally among each other. Cooking is a serious affair in my family, and whether it tasted good or not was of greater importance.

                When deciding what would be my perfect meal, I thought about what I eat at home. Usually, our family meals included a meat of some sort, two sides, and a salad. The meat is the centerpiece of the meal. It is what the two sides dishes are chosen and created for, to make a balanced dish that brings out the meat and flavors that support the spices added to it. It was because of this that I decided to make Lemon Pepper chicken breast, with Mexican rice and what we call “Creamy Corn” on the side along with spinach and strawberry salad. Creamy Corn is a mixture of corn, cream cheese, butter, and chopped jalapenos made in a crockpot mixed all together. I figured, this is perfect enough, since it brings the idea of family for me. Each portion represents some of my family members: the Lemon Pepper Chicken is my dad, my mother and grandma represent the rice, and corn is my brothers’ favorite vegetables. The spinach and strawberry salad is my sister, since she is all about being healthy. Lastly, no meal of mine would not be perfect if it did not have fresh Pico de Gallo to garnish everything, so I included that as well.

                I had to take my roommate’s Crockpot to make the corn. It’s a mini one, and so it was so cute to use. The size helped me figure out the right corn to cream cheese ratio, and it fit perfectly on the tiny countertop. Since I am an unexperienced cook, I had to call my grandma for her to tell me a step by step process for the rice. She laughed at me, but assured that even if I burned the rice, it would taste good if I use the correct ingredients. Hearing her voice made me miss home little, but it also assured me that making the rice was the right choice, for what better way to deal with homesickness than to cook food from home. I chopped up green peppers, onions, and jalapenos to make the two sides that would take the longest. The jalapenos went in the Crockpot with the corn and cream cheese, then put on high for it to really melt and mix in together. I walked over to the stove top and my roommate, Qynce, assured me that I won’t burn the building down with my cooking. We laughed little, knowing that it was a possibility.

                In the pot, I poured some rice over a tiny bit of olive oil. “You know you’re feeding me too, right?” they teased to me. I poured in some more rice, and began mixing it all together. I wanted to brown the rice just a little, since that was what my grandma told me to do in the beginning, but was hesitant because she said if I didn’t pay enough attention I’d burn it. I didn’t, so continued on to the next couple of steps. My friend Gil walked in, and laughed at the sight of me over a stove top.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked. I gave him an anxious glare, “No, but that’s okay.”

With two sets of eyes watching me, I became even more anxious. The rice was the most difficult part of the meal, and I was already nervous just at the thought of having to make it. My mother’s and grandma’s always tasted so good. The taste from their version was the reason why I decided to include rice in my perfect meal. Without it the meal would be incomplete. From being a keen observer during cooking, it always seemed so difficult and long to make. My mom has tried explaining to me over a million times, but I just would get bored or distracted and would stop listening to her. I think another reason why I’m so worried about making the rice is because it’s a key dish in my Hispanic culture. Rice and beans are staple foods, and they are usually what can add flavor or ruin a dish. I did not want that to happen to me, so the pressure was on my shoulders.

I poured in the tomato sauce and Comino, which is a spice packet composed of cumin and crushed cilantro, into the pot. Then, my friend David walked in, and the second he saw the rice he told me I added too much tomato sauce. I immediately regretted my decision, but with two death glares from Qynce and Gil towards him, he assured me it would be fine. I added water so the rice mixture could boil (also to kind of and tried to focus on making the chicken.

                It was tough for me to decide where to get my ingredients from. Back at home, groceries were always listed, and we only got what we needed and the cheapest of it. In Texas, the local H.E.B, which is the local grocery store, has produce from nearby farmers and stuff from farmers around in the state. We never questioned where they came from as long as they were cheap enough to feed a family of six for at least three meals. There is no food coop, so getting organic foods is difficult. Farmers markets are available, but typically H.E.B has the cheapest prices, and so we go on our monthly grocery trip to H.E.B first, then the farmer’s market to get whatever else we needed. Another contribution to my decision making was the fact that I am a college student on a budget, and had less than $75 to buy everything. This led me to go to Meijer, because it is the most similar to H.E.B. I figured it had to have some sort of organic foods, and hopefully would be cheaper than the food coop. I went with Qynce and Archie, a friend who drove us there, and together we walked around the store, getting my ingredients. Since according to them I act like a mother, they started calling me “Mom” and kept asking if they could get lunchables as if they were my children. At some point during the trip, they ran away with the cart full of food. I had to search the store only to find them in the ice-cream aisle. At the self-checkout, they asked why we couldn’t buy lunchables, and I told them if they were going to pay for it. Laughter and judgmental looks from strangers ensued, but we left with everything needed to make the meal. I chose a chicken breast packet that advertised it was organic and grain fed chicken. As for the vegetables, they all advertised that they were from nearby farmers, all almost under 5 dollars a pound. The only thing I didn’t get that either advertised it was organic or non GMO was the spinach, because 7.95 for a bag of baby spinach will never be in my budget and was definitely not that day.

Using organic and Non GMO foods is not typically what my family and I would think about. For a family of six, it’s more of feeding everyone kind of thinking rather than what is the healthiest option. In class we talked about the mass production of food and the hidden story behind it. The way certain animals are treated and the types of ingredients and pesticides added to make food more appeasing is appalling. Reflecting on this, it was why I wanted to try to get some organic and Non GMO foods. However, the prices for these types of foods are higher because of the time and energy that is put into them growing organically. This is why I couldn’t get my entire meal organic or non GMO. If I had more money I would get organic ingredients all the time, but for this specific meal, it just was not the case.

“You need to season it more, like really season it.” David said.

“Ashley, you’re getting salmonella all over the place, you need to watch out!” Gil chimed in.

“Do you think it’s getting warm in here?” Qynce asked.

These were the comments being thrown at me while I was preparing the chicken breast with lemon pepper spice and placing the pieces into a pan. My nervous laughter and trembling hands just made my friends comment more, in an attempt to pick on me altogether. It made me laugh, kind of, but more nervous than anything. The rice was still boiling away, the corn was bubbling and being stirred. I had to cut the chicken into pieces while it was still in the pan, because I wanted it to cook thoroughly and not give my friends salmonella.

                Another bright idea of mine was to make my own bacon bites for the salad. The salad was the last thing needed to complete the meal, just mix up the strawberries, spinach, cheese, and bacon bits. I thought it would be a great idea to make my own bacon bits since they would still be fresh and not completely dry. I put the bacon in the pan to cook and checked up on the corn. As a result I burned it to a crisp, and an immediate freak out ensued. Windows were opened and hands were flying about in the air in order to not alert the smoke alarm. I laughed, while holding the burned and smoky bacon pan in my hand. I knew I was going to burn something tonight. Needless to say the salad was bacon-bit less.

                The plate looked like home, the grilled lemon chicken with freshly squeezed lemon juice and seasoning complimented the bright orange of the rice. The green peppers and onions practically glistened mixed in with the orange. The yellow and beige hues of the Creamy corn did not meet my expectations, for it was more liquidy than what my mom makes, and now thinking about it, I think I forgot to completely drain one of the cans. The Pico smelled delightful, the chopped tomatoes and cilantro looked like a mini forest, with white onions mixed amongst it. The strawberries and cheese tossed up in spinach and garnished with store bought croutons was a subtle mix in compared to everything else I had made. When I finally got the chance to sit down and eat my food, everything tasted delicious. The lemon pepper gave the chicken a light kick because of the amount of pepper on it. The green pepper mixed with rice really gave it some flavor, and because of the Comino mixed in with it, it had the right amount of seasoning. The tomato sauce was another evident flavor, just enough to be known that it was mixed in along with the peppers. The salad was dry because I completely forgot to get some kind of dressing, but the strawberries, chopped tomatoes and croutons made the spinach flavorful. The butter and cream cheese overpowered the jalapeño in the corn, but because of the lack of spices in it, when mixed with the rice and chicken it balanced everything out. The cut tomatoes, cilantro, and onion in the Pico with lemon was the perfect garnish with everything. I mixed it with a spoonful of rice and chicken, and the crisp vegetables really made the whole meal appeasing. I got compliments about the rice, which surprised me the most. I thought I would for sure mess that up, but it was the best part of the meal.

                To call this meal perfect I think would be an okay title for me. I reminded me of home and the people who are the closest to my heart. Although it was stressful, especially when everyone was commenting on my seasoned chicken, it was oddly enjoyable. I think what really made it enjoyable was the fact that I was surrounded by people who are in a sense, family. They are my college family, and making a family meal with them made it even more special. What else made this meal close to perfect would be the ingredients. I was familiar with everything I chose to make, and so the act of having to use my memory to recreate these foods added to it. Lastly, my culture also played an important role that I didn’t really see until the end. It was especially evident in the rice, and was why I was so worried about it. To get compliments about the one thing that I was worried about the most is great, especially because it was the part of the meal that had the strongest connection to my Hispanic culture. To say I made rice and it was good, really makes me feel like a proud Hispanic individual. It makes me feel like I am connected to my culture more than I think.

                The overall experience of making an entire meal all by myself was insane. It was a mix of good and bad, but it generally lead to good food and some really great memories. Though more stressful than enjoyable, it really made me see what truly matters at the moment; I am one week away from having homemade meals like this daily. Maybe I will start cooking more, or maybe I’ll leave it to the experts I know that are home and awaiting my arrival. Whichever the case, I can’t wait for either. 

Final Restaraunt Review

            In the Kalamazoo, Michigan area there seems to be only a handful of Mexican restaurants. One chain restaurant is Los Amigos. What began as a small restaurant turned into a chain that has developed into three separate locations. The inspiration behind it all was the owner Juan Carlos Ortiz. He came from Kentucky to help his family and opened up a business. From the growth in the past years with opening new two restaurants, it has become a success. The newest edition to the chain restaurant is located on Gull Road.

            Walking into the small business, decorations of vibrant colors are placed all around the restaurant. The furniture throughout the large room is made out of wood, with carved in designs of flowers and simple swirls. Images of Historical Mexican figures such as Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa line the walls of the walkway. Tejano music plays while guests are being seated, the waiters scramble to get to and from tables with trays covered in plates of food. Stained glass light fixtures along with open blinds on the windows light up the neatly set up booths and tables. Towards the back of the room, there was a bar with neatly lined barstools and large TVs.

Immediately the waiter takes down drinks and brings them fast enough to get in a quick sip before conversation happens. The Coca-cola brand drinks are then followed by a fresh basket of corn tortilla chips and a bowl of watered down salsa. The chips are lightly salted, thick enough to not break when dipped in salsa and not greasy at all. The red salsa was a paste of smashed tomatoes, onions, and peppers.

The menu is large with a variety of dishes. Looking at it can overwhelm someone who has no idea what they want to eat. Although the small print does not help matters, the vibrant colors and pictures help guide the customer to the different sections. From seafood to off the grill choices, it is difficult to just choose one dish. A good alternative is to choose the combinations dinners, for they provide a variety of combinations between tacos, burritos, fajitas, and many others all on one plate. The overall price range is from $10-$20. Along with a lot of dishes, the menu offers a list of alcoholic beverages, from Margaritas to Wine and Beer. Mixed drinks and special order items are also listed.

            Here the saying “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” is taken literally, for the serving sizes are more than filling. If the unlimited chips as an appetizer weren’t enough, then the entrée will be. Large colorful glass plates hold entrees and make the meal seem heavier than what it is. The California burrito is as large as the oval dinner plate, smothered in melted Monterrey jack cheese. This particular burrito is stuffed with cooked fajita, rice and beans, guacamole, and Pico de Gallo. Depending on which end is chosen to start with, it is either a mouthful of meat or guacamole. Obviously because when it comes to burritos, these guys feel that guests should have meat and sides separated rather than mixed together in one bite.

            For the guests who remain undecided when the waiter comes, the Pollo Tapatio is the plate to go with. Described as charred grilled chicken and shrimp with a side of rice and beans and a small lettuce and tomato salad topped with sour cream. The dish provides a small aspect from every part of the menu and is more of a sampler entrée than a complete meal. The portions are filling, for the entire order comes on two large oval sized plates.

            For pure meat lovers, the Carnitas and Pollito fajita are the way to go. With the majority of the entrée grilled meat, the beef fajita (Carnitas) comes with a small portion of red rice on the side and beans. In addition, grilled green peppers and onions are caramelized and mixed with the meat, adding a rich taste to the seasoned fajita. The brown color gave way to a perfectly cooked fajita. The chicken (Pollito) fajita gave the same amount of satisfaction, however, it was mixed with caramelized red peppers and purple onions. Both came with a side of rice and beans. In addition to a variety of hot sauces to give it an extra kick.

Although these meals had a great presentation, they lacked proper preparation.

The chicken was rubbery and dry, and when mixed with the rice, there was no way to swallow without taking a sip of drink first. The vegetables seem to be fresh, but were drenched in lime juice and caused them to be soggy. Eventually, the juice will spread to whatever else is on the plate. As a result, one could possibly get beans with a lemony flavor, the ideal combination for losing an appetite.

            Charred grilled is also taken literally; pieces of both fajita and chicken seem to be burned on the edges. The only properly done right charred grilled item is the onions, for they are caramelized to a rich brown and crisp taste.

            The guacamole can speak for itself, for the ingredients seem to be a mystery. The lime green spread was lumped upon the plate. The creaminess of it did not seem to be coming from pure avocado, but rather a puree of sour cream and avocado, which is not what true guacamole is. Scattered tomato and cilantro were also there but overpowered by the sour cream.

            The most questionable part of the meal was most certainly the Pico de Gallo. What is supposed to be fresh chopped tomato, cilantro, onions and minimal lime juice, seems to be more of a soggy mess? What is supposed to look like mixed chopped vegetables looked like a puddle of vegetables? The immense amount of lime juice drowned out the chopped tomatoes, along with everything else. There was also a mystery ingredient, for there seemed to be a peppery taste to the mixture. Whether it be added pepper spice or chopped green peppers, either is not supposed to be in Pico de Gallo.

            As for dessert, the fried ice cream is divine. Served in a clear margarita glass, it comes with two scoops of fried ice-cream, topped with honey and chocolate drizzle and a cherry. The crunchy crust gives way to a semi-frozen inside. Vanilla ice-cream mixed with honey seeps out of its shell and into the glass. The honey and chocolate drizzle both add to the sweetness of the concoction.

            In comparison to El Gallo Blanco or its sister restaurant on Stadium Drive, Los Amigos on Gull Road falls short. Its presentation of the food is great, however, they need to step up on their presentation.

However, the overall atmosphere of the restaurant puts guests at ease. As a casual dining spot, it is great for families to come and enjoy a good meal, or to celebrate a birthday with some good friends. Either way, the service is more than helpful and can help guests enjoy their meal to the fullest. 

Authentic Enough

            Walking into a Mexican restaurant in the Midwest, one would expect piñatas hanging from the ceiling, loud mariachi music playing, the staff wearing long white buttoned up shirts with black pants, with a side feeling of happiness. That is not what you get when you walk into Los Amigos Mexican Food Restaurant on Gull Road in Kalamazoo, Michigan.

            Walking into the restaurant, you get a sense of Mexican authenticity. The furniture throughout was made out of wood, with carved in designs that caught the eye. While being walked to your table, the subtle sound of Tejano music fills your ear. It is loud enough to take notice, but low enough to be able to hear and have conversation with your party. Stained glass light fixtures along with open blinds on the windows light up the neatly set up booths and tables.

Immediately the waiter takes down drinks, and brings them fast enough to get a quick sip before conversation happens. The Coca cola brand drinks are then followed by a fresh basket of chips and a bowl of watered down salsa. If you’re not careful enough, you’ll get full solely on the complimentary refilling of the basket and drinks.

            Here the saying “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” is taken literally, for the serving sizes are more than filling. If the unlimited chips as an appetizer weren’t enough, then the entrée will be. Large colorful glass plates held our entrees, already heavy with cheese. For the California burrito was as large as the big plate, smothered in melted Monterrey jack cheese. This particular burrito is stuffed with cooked fajita, rice and beans, guacamole, and something the resembles Pico de gallo. Depending on what end you begin from, you either are introduced to tender and chewy fajita or thick and creamy guacamole. Obviously because when it comes to burritos, these guys feel that you should have your meat and sides separated rather than mixed together in one bite.

            If you’re not trying to just eat everything wrapped in one tortilla, then the Pollo tapatio is the plate for you. Described as charred grilled chicken and shrimp with a side of rice and beans with a small lettuce and tomato salad topped with sour cream. This is the dish for someone who wants to taste everything on one plate. The overall dish looked delicious, the buttery glaze off the shrimp, the melted cheese topped beans and the rich lime green guacamole could appease anyone.

            For pure meat lovers, the Carnitas and Pollito fajita are the way to go. With the majority of the entrée grilled meat, this came with a small portion of red rice on the side and beans. In addition, grilled peppers and onions were caramelized and mixed with the meat, adding a rich taste to the seasoned fajita. The brown color gave way to a perfectly cooked fajita. The chicken (pollito) fajita gave the same amount of satisfaction: grilled to where the chicken was well done.

What these meals lack in flavor they make up in presentation.

The chicken tastes rubbery and dry, and when mixed with the rice, there was no way to swallow without sipping your drink first. The vegetables seem to be fresh, although having them drenched in lime juice caused them to be soggy, and eventually the juice spread to whatever else is on the plate. As a result, one could possibly get beans with a lemony flavor, the ideal combination for losing an appetite.

            Charred grilled is also taken literally; pieces of both fajita and chicken seem to be slightly burned on the edges. However, the grilled onions were perfectly caramelized, with a slight crisp but not raw flavor.

            The guacamole can speak for itself, for the ingredients seem to be a mystery. The color seemed authentic, for lime green is what guacamole should look like. It was how it tasted is what made me second guess it. The creaminess of it did not seem to be coming from pure avocado, but rather a puree of sour cream and avocado, which is not what true guacamole is. Scattered tomato and cilantro were also there, but overpowered by the sour cream.

            The most questionable part of my meal was most certainly the Pico de gallo. What is supposed to be fresh chopped tomato, cilantro, onions and minimal lime juice, seemed to be more of a soggy mess. The lime juice overpowered what seemed to be left out vegetables. There was also a mystery ingredient, I could not tell if it was either too much cilantro or another green leaf herb, but there was another component that made the small portion manageable to eat.

            As for dessert, do not think you will have enough room in your stomach for some. There will be plenty of left overs, and if you have school or work the next day, it is the perfect way to get out of having crappy cafeteria food or premade frozen meals. However, if you’re feeling up to it, the friend ice-cream is a good decision. Although extremely sugary and sweet, it is divine. To have a crunchy crust and a cool inside, the ice-cream is the perfect way to end your already fattening meal.

            In comparison to El Gallo Blanco or its sister restaurant on Stadium Drive, Los Amigos beats the competition. The truly authentic Mexican meals are a good starting point to be brought into a full on Mexican experience. The overall environment was nothing out of the ordinary, but had the expected images of Historical Mexican figures such as Emiliano Zapata and the Typical Pancho Villa. The service is amazing, for drinks re refilled when only half way empty. There also seemed to be what looked like a bar, which is good since an entire page of the menu is dedicated to the different alcohol choices they offer. Piece of advice: Do not come in a group of four with two guys and two girls and sit in a booth divided evenly for the waiter will assume it is a double date and charge two meals on one card leading to problems when paying. Other than that, they know how to make the dining out experiences worthwhile for hungry customers.

Pre Restaurant Review

The original plan for the day was to go apple picking and eat at the orchard. However, my plans changed when my friends and I realized we went to the apple farm without a restaurant, and being a group of hungry college kids who wanted some comfort food, we decide to eat at the Los Amigos Mexican Food Restaurant on Gull Road. I'm making my friends wait in the car as I write this, and so I am not entirely sure how I feel about this restaurant. Since it was a very last minute change, I feel it would be great to just get something because I am starving and really just want some food. I went to the other chain restaurant on Stadium drive, however I was not entirely pleased with it. The food wasn't as fresh as I had hoped and the overall service wasn't that great either. I hope this restaurant isn't the same. 

I do not know anyone who has been to this specific restaurant either, and so I'm hoping the service and quality of food isn't the same as my past experiences.

Being from a Mexican heritage, I already do not want to eat here. I have the past experiences in my mind, and coming in with such high expectations I feel this place will just get bad review from me. In addition, I feel the quality of Mexican food around Kalamazoo hasn’t even been close to average for my personal rating, so I am hesitant to just go in and want to experience something negative all over again.

By doing some quick research on not only my phone but my friend’s cell phones as well, this restaurant seems to get pretty average reviews. It’s not the best, but it isn’t the worse. I don’t know if this should comfort me or not. I’m glad it isn’t the worse, because I feel I have already experienced that, however on the other hand, I want to know why these people did not give it the full five stars. Was it because the food quality wasn’t there? Possibly the service? Looking at all these different comments, there seems to be a mix of the two. It is possible that this is just an average restaurant, and that it seems to just be a place to go and enjoy the food rather than having the full on Mexican experience.

I really don’t know what to expect. I would like to think that I should expect roughly the same kind of food that I had at the other chain restaurant and other Mexican restaurants in the Kalamazoo area. However, I want to go in with a clear mind and try to not have any extreme biases towards it. Even with my Hispanic background, I am going to try to not be completely disappointed or ecstatic when I see my food, or notice that something doesn’t fit completely right with the overall feel of the dish. I am also going to try to not judge the food so harshly, as if I could cook something better than what is being served to me.

CYOA: Where's it at?

For a certain culture, there are basics that everyone should know. There are the staple foods and the methods used to cook them, then there are when and where to eat certain dishes. However, these basics can only go so far and differences between individuals become prominent. This is the case for the Mexican culture, and specifically for me, the differences become prominent between California and Texas.

For my CYOA, I am going to explore Mexican food and the way it ranges from area to area, specifically between California and Texas. This is important to me because of my Mexican heritage and Hispanic lifestyle. Growing up in Texas, I experienced a range of food from being pure Mexican to pure Texan. It wasn’t until I came to school here in Michigan that I realized although I can know another individual with a Mexican heritage, the type of food or the way we cook things can be different. I assumed it was all the same throughout, and everyone knew what the difference between a taco and a taquito were. I want to expand on these differences and similarities, and show how this can be the case for other cultures as well. 

I have two videos to show you all. The first is a video that compares American style food/snacks and Mexican style food/snacks. The second video is a comparison between California and Texan Mexicans at a gathering that highlights key differences between the two. These videos are simply just for humor, and in my presentation, I will go deeper into the different varieties of Mexican food and how this can be related to other cultures as well.

Video One: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlI_jsalGEs

Video Two: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrH_cPby2Ug 

From Sopa to Hot Cheetos

Ashley Santana

Seminar

October 10, 2016

From Sopa to Hot Cheetos and Cheese

I remember when I was younger our dinner evenings at home went like this: Mom makes the food, Dad watches the game, Daniel and Brenda are doing something they’ll regret later on, and I’m quietly reading my Barbie book in the corner. At the age of seven, she was my favorite character. Mom was making her easiest recipe; sopa. It had been a long day for her, or at least that’s what she was telling Dad. He was feeding our dog, Blue, while she kept going on about an annoying customer.

            The smell of tomatoes and cilantro filled my nose as I fulfilled my diner duty of taking out forks and putting them on placemats. I recount how many forks I got out, not daring to touch the butter knives Mom and Dad use. Mom told me I’ll cut my hand off, and I need my hand in order to play with my toys. I look back towards the stove at Mom, waiting to be told what to do next. Her belly was huge with a tiny monster living inside her. Dad calls that monster “the Baby”, but I know it isn’t one. Mom says it kicks her a lot, which makes me mad because no one is allowed to kick my Mom. I don’t understand why it isn’t getting in trouble for kicking because if I kick Daniel then I would be in big trouble, so it isn’t fair.

            I look back at Dad, he’s across from me on the table. The Cowboys are on, so of course he’s watching the game, completely oblivious to the fact that Daniel is stuffing Cheerios up his nose to make Brenda laugh in their highchairs. Growing up in South Texas taught me that football was life, and whether it be high school or professional, it was always around.

“Time to eat. Ashley, go wash your hands. Ani, can you help me serve the kids?” my Mom shouts. I leave to the bathroom, overhearing my parents’ conversation.

“But honey, the game is on!”

“I don’t care, I can’t serve three kids by myself. And you need to wash your hands also, they’re filthy.”

“Uh-oh, Daniel stuffed the cheerios up his nose again” Dad finally saw. He got a paper towel and forced Daniel to blow out, hoping the cheerios would come out of his button nose.

“Dammit Ani, you were supposed to be watching them!” Mom shouted.

            I return to my seat at the table. Daniel and Brenda already have their bowls in front of them, with an orange five o’clock shadow around their mouths.  My bowl is on my Barbie placemat, with a scoop of Pico de Gallo in it.

 “Daddy, it’s too hot. Can you blow on it to make it cooler for me?” I ask.

“Yeah mamas, just let me see this last play. Then I’ll do it for you.”

Mom comes and leans over me, blowing on my food because she knows too well that my father could be distracted by the game for hours. Slowly, I grab the warm tortillas from the towel on the table. I tear pieces off, and use it as my utensil. The small noodles floated alongside the cilantro pieces. The orange water seeped into the smushed beans and tomatoes. The greasy water stained everything it touched, from the bowl, my tortilla, and my hands. Mini batches of sopa wrapped in tortilla entered my mouth, each piece better and bigger than the previous. The cilantro and tomato tastes so good with the Pico, and with the tortilla it somehow made it even better.

 I always had a napkin on my lap, just like grandma when she eats. Except, I taught myself to put a tortilla on top of it, so that if I drop food on myself, it would fall onto the tortilla and when I check it would be a ready to eat taco. Mom got mad at me every time I did this. She said that I would only drop food on myself because I was too far from the table, and I should scoot in more. I always did, but there would still be food on my napkin no matter how close I sat. I still did it, only I’d do it without her seeing me. Looking back now I don’t see why I stopped doing it, it was genius.

            As I grew up, there were less sopa dinners. Less of the family gatherings at the table and more of fast food dinners or really small meals. Less of us kids playing together and more fighting and arguing. I don’t remember much between my elementary years and high school. Dad had to close down the company, the recession hit the housing market too much, and we just couldn’t keep up with the bills and costs of owning a company. Mom went back to work at the school, while trying to earn her degree. Between picking us up, keeping up with the house, work and school, I don’t know how she did it. I think it was more caffeine than actual energy. Grandma got sent to the hospital, her breast and colon cancer had returned from when she was younger. Family dinners were rare after that. Mom and Dad would trade off at the hospital, we started taking the bus home, and I would make sandwiches, egg and bacon, simple things for my younger siblings. They didn’t need to know Mom was too exhausted to cook or why Dad wasn’t home because he was working overtime. They didn’t need to know anything, they just needed some food. Simple dinners were all I knew, I didn’t know how long to let the fajita pieces simmer in a pan or how to make sure the flautas wouldn’t burn in the oven. The meals my mom used to make would take hours, meanwhile four grilled cheese sandwiches cooked within minutes. We strained away from my Mom’s traditional cooking and leaned towards my fast and easy cooking, just a natural change in our circumstances.

            The years continued on and before I realized it I was in high school. I became a part of a wide range of clubs. Daniel and Brenda were in sports, and David was already going to finish middle school. My mom be our chauffer to destinations ranging from practice to games, required volunteer events, and school dances. She was now a teacher and Dad was working. Grandma was okay now, stronger than ever, a survivor. However, things never really went back to the way they used to be.

            Friday nights were now pizza nights. My mom would pick up a one after work, bring it home, and whoever was with her would eat. David was always the one who was there, for pizza was his favorite. Us older ones were always busy, and it was rare that all three of us would be present together. On the off chance we were, my mom would be overjoyed. I would get the glasses and fill them with ice, Brenda would make the sweet tea we all loved and enjoyed, and David would get the paper plates from the cabinet, enough for each of us.

“Mom, did you get the pasta?” Brenda would ask. She always watched what she ate, and figured pasta would give her the energy she needed for games.

“Ugh, Supreme? Did you get another Pepperoni? I hate those vegetables, especially the mushrooms.” Daniel is the pickiest eater I know. I think his idea of a perfect meal would be steak with corn on the side and mashed potatoes. I hated him at dinner for his disgust of flavors and good food.

David and I were the quiet ones. We ate what my mom got with no questions asked. I hated when the other two would question what my mom got, and would complain when it wasn’t what they wanted. Just eat what you’re given and it’s all good.

            After our pizza, we would always have a game to attend. In the fall, it was either Brenda’s volleyball games, Daniel’s football games, or the town’s high school football team, Donna’s Mighty Fighting Redskins, home game. These all lead to the good ole’ concession stand foods. My favorite were the hot Cheetos and cheese, the hotness of the Cheetos would be greater in flavor mixed with the melted cheese. This time it was the football game of the Redskins, so we put on our team shirts and headed for the football stands. Daniel and Brenda didn’t want to sit with us, so they were in the student section with their friends. Since both my parents went to the town’s high school, we have reserved seats every year. Right in front of the fifty yard line, which according to my dad was the best seat in the stadium, was were where we sat every year. Around the end of the second quarter is when I would start to get hungry again, so the quick trip to the concession stand started with asking what everybody wanted.

“Mom, do you want a coke? Dad, what else do you want?” I’d always ask. Being the designated child to go and order our food was my new role, feeling like a waitress getting the order then bringing it back.

“Hmm, get me a pickle with popcorn, Mamas. Your Mom wants a coke with a fajita taco.”

 “Ashley, can I join you?” David would ask.

“Yeah sure, Pupas. You get the drinks and I get the food.”

            The concession stand would always be packed. Three lines at the football games always took forever to move. I never understood how people did not know what they wanted once they got to the front, I mean they were standing in line for ten minutes, one would assume they at least had an idea of what they were craving.

“How may I help you, Ma’am?” the worker asked me. I hated being called Ma’am, it made me feel like my mother.

“I’ll have one hot Cheetos and cheese, one nacho no jalapeño, a pickle and popcorn, and one fajita taco. Also, get me two waters, a coke, and one Sprite.”

Being the oldest, ordering was a job forced upon me. I was a pro at ordering, my other siblings would be too embarrassed to even ask for an extra ketchup at McDonald’s. It was nonsense, but I never argued it. Even if I did, I would be told I’m the oldest, and need to care for my siblings, as if I hadn’t known this information already.

“Here ya go.” the lady said. She placed the food on a tray for me to take, since it was a lot. Her plastic gloved hands pushed the tray while I would lift it.

“Thanks, have a nice night!”

“You too!”

Back at the bleachers, the food and drinks would be distributed, and we’d all sit down and watch the game. The cold metal always gave me the chills, but the warm sensation I’d get from placing the hot Cheetos on my jeans would warm me up slightly. I’d start eating them, careful when bringing the plastic spoon towards my mouth. It only held so many, and even tiniest bump could make one cheeto slip. A handful of napkins were always used to make sure not to ruin our shirts, and no dirty faces were allowed in public. The crisp fall air would brush my face, and would leave me with frizzy hair by the end of the game. The football game would commence, and the crowd would roar, us along with it. It was tradition, our Friday night tradition.

            Looking back now, I see how much we truly have grown and changed. We’re still a family, but such a different one than when I was little. Back then we were happy to be together, now we could barely stand each other. My parents were older and exhausted from raising four kids, each with an attitude of their own. My siblings and I rarely stayed together, much less played or enjoyed each other’s company. It was different, so much that at times I barely recognize that we are indeed the same family. In between my childhood of homemade family dinners and my high school life of football games and fast food, I grew up. I grew into the oldest child with new duties. Starting by getting forks and ending with the designated concession stand waitress, I always had a job, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I guess it was just something that family did, no matter what.