Lost in translation

Abuela Rosa’s recipe cards arrived yesterday in a manila envelope with my name written in her careful cursive. I spread them across the kitchen counter this afternoon, expecting to feel prepared for our cooking session next weekend. Instead, I’m staring at ingredients I can’t pronounce and techniques that sound like they require skills I definitely don’t have.

Lost in translation

‘Sofrito’ appears in half the recipes, but when I looked it up, the instructions assume you already know how to make it from scratch. There are references to grinding spices ‘until fragrant’ and cooking times measured in ‘when it feels right’ rather than actual minutes. Jake found his old Spanish-English dictionary from college, which helps with some words but doesn’t explain why three different recipes call for ‘patience’ as an ingredient.

Turns out ‘achiote’ isn’t in my regular vocabulary. Thank goodness for the Spanish-English dictionary Jake found.

I’m starting to realize this visit isn’t just about learning family recipes. It’s about understanding a whole approach to cooking that can’t be Googled or measured with my digital scale. Abuela Rosa’s notes in the margins mention stories behind each dish, family gatherings where they were served, modifications made over the years. Maybe the gaps in my knowledge are exactly the point.

Guess I’ll be bringing a lot of questions along with my appetite next weekend.