In the Cocina

mami’s makin’ mambo
mami’s makin’ mambo
 

In the domain of the del Valle kitchen my mother is the dictator.
I refer to it as “Carmens culinary queendom”
She becomes a cuisine conquistadora
wielding a freshly sharpened knife like a sword above her head.
Here Goya doesn’t stand a chance.
No pre packaged shit.
She is the menu mercenary
the soldier of soul food

you need to back the hell up
coz
mami’s makin’ mambo

She hangs the hats of iron chefs off the windowsill like roast duck trophies
and laughs at the sight of any edible food item

Mua ha ha ha ha ha ha!

No meat in the freezer?
poof!
Spam and corned beef in a can are transformed into virtual fillet mignon.
poof!
Rice cooks itself instantly at her command
and beans
jump into bubbling pots shrieking
 “Carmen please!!! Cook me master please! Honor me with your spice!”
            Emiril and Julia Childs?
            mere hamburger flippers in her presence.
 

coz
mami’s makin’ mambo

It was there
in my mother’s kitchen
that I learned more than just how to cook.
It’s where I learned the essence of rhythm and power.
I learned to dance in that kitchen.
Shiny aluminum rice pots clanging like cowbells
with metal spoons, cast iron frying pans
the wooden mortar and pestle provided the percussion section.
With the radio humming softly in the background
the fall of her steel blade on the wooden cutting board
became the clave. The hissing of the pressure cooker harmonized
with the sizzling of sofrito and bubbling beans softening in covered pots
and her hands moved faster than Mongo’s on congas during a riff
making mofongo con caldo.
She would say to me
                         The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and your hips.
                         So you better learn how to cook mija.
She gave me the secret recipe for ritmo

2 1⁄2 c. of caderas
a lb. of girating pelvis
a pinch of pursed lips
a tbl. of shaking shoulders
and a generous helping of soooooouuul.
Combine and mix.
           This is the recipe for ritmo, and now
           I'm dancing the way my mother cooks

Slow
Sultry spicy
Sabrosa
natural
Instinctively
Drippin’ sweet sweat like fresh leche de coco
Spinnin’ as fast as piraguas melt in summertime south side heat
Dancin’ with as much kick as cuchifrito and Bacardi
Standin’ strong like a morningtime Bustelo
Steamy as pasteles at Christmas
Blendin’ my hip-hop y mambo like a piña-colada
my mouth watering for music
with sabor en caderas
soothes down my hips
dulce as Celia’s
Azzucarr
Con dulzura
I’m cooking with sabor
I’m bailando con sabor
coz

mami’s makin’ mambo
mami’s makin’ mambo

                      Mamucha. Come eat.
                     the food’s ready.