Stranger in a Strange Land: Ethnicity, Work, and Food on Someone Else's National Holiday

Stranger in a Strange Land: Ethnicity, Work, and Food on a Someone Else's National Holiday

On Memorial Day I found myself in Columbus, OH visiting friends. I didn’t expect to do any work—if that’s what my research on ethnic groceries can be called—but my good friend, Liz, who is also a folklorist and a keen observer of everyday life, mentioned that there were numerous small ethnic stores in her neighborhood. I figured I would drive by to see if they were even open, given that it was a national holiday. I didn’t expect to find them not only open, but fairly empty, so that the individuals working there had time on their hands to chat. One young woman in a Chinese grocery was more than happy to talk, sharing insights into the loneliness that can accompany being a “stranger in a strange land.” Her story was also a sobering counterpoint to the more cheerful ones of individuals who had found community and family through work surrounding ethnic food.

LinFang is only 26. She was born in southern China and came to the U.S. 4 years ago, sent by her parents to find new economic opportunities. Like many immigrants with minimal job training, education, and English language skills, she initially worked in a Chinese restaurant. It was hard work with long hours and low pay, but it was busy and exciting in its own way with the constant influx and changeover of customers. The job provided an excuse to practice her English along with social interactions with people from a diversity of backgrounds and cultural heritages.

 Her move to an Asian grocery store was a step up and a step on the way to fulfilling her own dream of one day owning her own business and having a family, but it also brought unexpected isolation—a loneliness that emphasized her status as a stranger in a strange land—particularly and acutely felt on a national holiday such as Memorial Day.

I met her while she was working as a cashier in a grocery store. The store was not identified as Chinese by its name and actually advertised itself on the front door as “international,” but the name was also written out in Chinese characters, and the products being sold were definitely Chinese, as well as other Asian ethnicities. Very few people came in while I was there, which was not surprising given the holiday, but the ones who did were Asian. The lack of customers meant that we had plenty of time to talk, so I interviewed her while she stood next to the cash register, so she could keep her eye on the door. I also told her I would not give the name of the store in case her employer did not approve of her being interviewed. (Afterwards, I realized that her musings could have been taken as criticisms, so I deleted any references to the store’s name.)

LinFang said that the customers were mostly Asian, but not necessarily Chinese or if Chinese, not from southern China, and so spoke a different dialect. She found he Asian customers somewhat difficult to work with—they were used to haggling but also knew how to judge the quality of the produce and other products—and had opinions on them which they felt free to express. Although the local Chinese population is large because of the major research university in the city, it was not necessarily comforting to her. She made a distinction between them being a community versus a family. As a community, they supported each other through various formal associations, but each individual was expected to pull their own weight and find their own way. Self-owned businesses were the assumed goal, and working for each other was seen as a mentoring until individuals got established on their own. She was adamant that it wasn’t a family, in which people looked out for each other’s emotional needs. Work was work! It made her a little lonely at times, but that was just the way it was.

She also pointed out that American customers were frequently friendlier than Asian ones, asking advice and engaging her in conversations. She didn’t understand the interactions, though, and found herself without companions on the one day a week she had off. She turned sad when she spoke of that one day off, wistfully wondering how to make friends.

I’ve oftentimes lived in cultures other than my own (whichever that one is!) and know the kind of isolation she expressed—and I can imagine the loneliness of working on a national holiday in which everyone else seems to be gathering with friends and celebrating a unity in which one is not included. Being surrounded by food would, I think, make that loneliness even worse. Food frequently brings people together, with meals being occasions for socializing or just touching base with others. Perhaps the customers purchasing food at that store were taking it home to cook for family dinners or were taking it to parties or other public events. Linfang, however, had to focus on that food as commodities, presenting them, displaying them, and, hopefully, selling them. At the end of the day, it was the numbers on the cash register that mattered the most. I found that sad. She was so full of hope, but also so wistful. I hope she does achieve her dreams of owning her own business, but I also hope that she finds friendship and family, too, and doesn’t have to give that up for the first. Most of all, I hope she doesn’t lose the eagerness she displayed to learn new things, open up to new experiences, and to give to those around her. I’ll make a point to go back to that store, to buy something there, and to affirm her dreams.

Eastern European Easter foods, Ethnic Groceries in Cleveland, Ohio

Eastern European Easter foods, Ethnic Groceries in Cleveland, Ohio  April 17, 2014

Holidays usually bring out the best in food traditions, and that’s especially true of Easter among most Eastern European cultures. This week, I had the good fortune to spend time in the Cleveland, Ohio area—Parma Heights and Parma, to be specific, where there are well established Ukrainian, Polish, and other ethnic communities. Beginning as early as the late 1800s and early 1900s, these neighborhoods supported grocery stores, restaurants, social halls, and churches that continued many food customs from the “old world.” Today, the commercial food establishments welcome customers from a multiplicity of ethnicities and varieties of “American-ness,” but also frequently serve as social centers for individuals sharing that ethnic heritage.

This was very evident on the Wednesday before Easter. Grocery stores were packed with customers purchasing special meats, breads, and other treats for the up-coming holiday. The festive atmosphere made the shopping hectic, but it was obvious that people enjoyed the hustle and bustle. The crowds even overflowed to the sidewalk at State Meats on State Road in the Ukrainian Village in Parma, with people seated on benches or standing and chatting while they waited their turn to go inside to select the special hams and sausages used for the holiday. The small bakery down the street, Kolos Bakery, similarly was packed, and the owners looking harried—but pleasantly so. Their card states that they speak English, Ukrainian, Armenian, Russian, and Hebrew, refecting the rich mix of cultures that intermingle in these neighborhoods—and around food. Further down State Road, the LVIV International Food Store featured Ukrainian Easter cakes, meats, sugar lambs and rabbits, and decorated eggs along with their usual colorful displays of arts, crafts, clothing, and food.

Another Ukrainian grocery, the Ukrainian Village food and Deli, brought that home even more. The owner, Irena, graciously gave me an interview in the morning before the rush of customers began. She came to the U.S. thirteen years ago after running a business in the Ukraine for ten years. She opened her own grocery store partly because she wanted to work with something she knows—food—but also because she wanted to have her own business. Initially, the store was a way to make a living, but over the years, it has developed into much more—a place where customers can feel comfortable learning about new foods as well as run into friends and develop a sense of community.  Irena does that partly by hiring employees who can speak Ukrainian and English (and frequently other languages as well; she speaks Polish, Russian, and some Romanian, along with English and her native Ukrainian). She also actively supports the surrounding community, creating jobs and donating items to local ethnic churches. Which brings us back to the holiday foods.

One of the traditions for many Catholic eastern Europeans is the blessing of food to be eaten for the Easter holiday. Baskets are prepared, usually containing special breads, hard-boiled eggs (plain and elaborately decorated), meats (frequently lamb as a symbol of Christ, pork sausages, or hams), maybe butter shaped into lambs, and other treats. The baskets are then blessed at church on the Saturday preceding Easter Sunday. Each ethnicity—and each family and regional culture—has their own variations. These variations are part of the richness of these traditions and suggest something of how food allows us to celebrate unity while also recognize diversity. In very practical terms, it means there’s something for everyone’s taste, palate, and circumstances.

Ukrainian Easter Cake, sugar lamb, some packets of designs to put on eggs, and a Polish Easter cake.

Commerce and Community--Ethnic Grocery Stores (Deepam India)

Commerce and Community--Ethnic Grocery Stores (Deepam India, Toledo)

The idea that ethnic grocery stores can be places for the creation of community hit home in my visit to an Indian grocery store and deli (Deepam India) on the outskirts of Toledo. Surprisingly, though, the community surrounding this store is not an ethnic one, but mostly “American.” It is made up of people from diverse ethnicities and nationalities who all share an interest in Indian food. And that interest comes from a variety of motivations—taste, ethos and beliefs (vegetarian), curiosity, and health and wellness concerns. As the owner, a woman, by the way, who earned a masters in sociology at the local state university and previously ran a business teaching technology skills to teachers, pointed out to me, the store’s community represents the ideal American community—one in which people are drawn together by common interests and values that cut across the usual culprits of discrimination: race, class, gender, nationality, and religion.

Some of that is intentional on the part of the owner. She generally hires women to work in the kitchen and the cash register, but looks first at personality and personal habits rather than ethnicity. She wants people who are friendly and personable, hard workers, and respectful of the business and customers. Hence, the Lebanese woman who was working there when I visited. She was wearing the hijab traditional to her Muslim heritage—a colorful headscarf that covered her hair but not her face. She was friendly and helpful and immediately understood what I was talking about when I asked about her connections between food and culture. She laughingly pointed out that this was not the food that she knows (she wasn’t familiar with one of my favorite Indian dishes, malai kofta), but her enthusiasm and helpfulness made up for any lack of knowledge of the cuisine. She also said she likes learning about another culture’s food—and the culture represented by that food. Another woman working there was Indian, dressed in a modern shalwar gameeze (tunic over pants). She also was friendly, but couldn’t stop to chat (lack of time is a recurrent theme in ethnic grocery stores).

It probably helps the business that current trends promote eating a vegetarian diet and consuming Indian spices for health reasons. Turmeric and ginger, in particular, are in the news this year (late 2013 and early 2014) for giving all sorts of health benefits. Also, the explosion of programs about food in the media is bringing new cuisines to the masses and also encouraging more adventurous eating. Ethnic grocery stores and restaurants everywhere are benefiting from these trends. (And also possibly from the opening up of American society in recognizing diversity, but that’s a subject for another time.)

Back to the idea of community, though. One of the critiques of capitalism is that it turns all transactions into commercial ones valued according to monetary profit. “Commodity fetishism” becomes rampant and shapes the way we go through our daily lives and relationships. That seems to me a pretty accurate observation, and I can draw upon all sorts of scholarly writings to support it, but this particular business seems to have successfully bucked the system. The owner told me that money is not the goal of the business. Of course, it has to make enough money to sustain itself, but for her, it is a way to do something meaningful, to utilize one of her skills (cooking) as well as her cultural background (Indian, Hindu), and to interact with people.

It's the last point that struck me about the grocery store. Although it initially did not seem busy with customers, it is actually the center of a community in a very real sense. Individuals come there seeking ingredients for dishes they’ve heard about and receive an education about Indian cuisine and culture. (Cooking classes are offered occasionally when enough people request them.) Individuals also come looking for spices and foods for health or medicinal purposes and find themselves welcomed into a network of others who have similar concerns, led by a business owner who cares more about their health than about profits. And individuals come there out of curiosity and are treated as new friends. All of these attitudes and interactions lay the groundwork for an actual community of individuals who care about each other as well as the food that brought them together.

And on the practical side, the store is doing very well financially. It has even introduced a line of “healthy salads,” featuring mostly beans with some Indian spices and cooking touches. (They even supply 3 area hospitals with these salads.) Maybe it’s a lesson other businesses can learn from—promoting community through a commercial endeavor and putting it before profit actually creates more profit----and strengthens the social relationships we all need. Meanwhile, I'm taking home several dishes from the deli to share with friends and family and to strengthen my own little community.

Peruvian Chicken and women entrepreneurs

Peruvian chicken----Feb. 2014, Falls Church, VA

For those of you not in-the-know, “Peruvian chicken” is one of the most popular ethnic foods in northern Virginia. It’s a dish—rotisserie-roasted whole or half chicken served with French fries or fried yucca and a lettuce and tomato salad. Optional sides usually include friend plantains or bananas, potato salad, sometimes corn on the cob or rice and beans, and others. But Peruvian chicken places also serve steak or chicken sandwiches (toasted bun with lettuce and slice of tomato), provolone cheese, and mayonnaise and spicy green sauce (tomatillo and green chili). They also serve a few other dishes, depending on the particular restaurant—tongue stew, sausage, fried fish. They offer drinks (Inca cola, horchata, various soft drinks) and desserts (flan, cakes, ice cream). Also, they are not necessarily run by Peruvians. Immigrants from other central and South American countries capitalize on its popularity and offer variations of it along with their own cuisine.

I was first introduced me to Peruvian Chicken by my friends Sam and Gail, local residents and aficionados of local culture.  A few years back, they took me to the original restaurant that popularized it in the early 2000s--Edy’s Chicken and Steak Restaurant (5240 Leesburg Pike, Bailey’s Crossroads, VA  22041). I’ve gone to a few other restaurants in northern VA, where they have proliferated (along with the Latin American population there), and stopped in today (Monday, Feb. 24) at one I hadn’t been to before.  On Route 50 across from Seven Corners, Peruvian Chicken and Steak (6198 Arlington Blvd., Falls Church, VA.) stood out with red and white colors and its name blazoned across the side. It offered the usual fare—although I did notice a “Chicken gyros”—an interesting fusion of culinary traditions. The décor included maps of Peru and motifs from Incan culture (a painting of Machu Pichu) along with servers wearing a cheerful red apron and hat with “Peruvian Chicken and Steak” written across it. I ordered a steak sandwich (they didn’t seem to offer the usual chicken and steak sandwich) with a side of potato salad. The food was tasty, especially the mayonnaise and green sauce.

What I did notice even more, though, was a sign with the names of the owner and managers. All were female. That’s not unusual either. It does, however, challenge some of the mainstream stereotypes of women from so-called “undeveloped” countries as being oppressed by and submissive to men. Here they were being the entrepreneurs and the ones in charge. So I asked to speak to the owner.

The owner is actually from El Salvador, coming to the US about 30 years ago. She met her husband here, and he was from Peru. They opened the restaurant together, offering “Peruvian chicken and steak” since that’s what seemed to sell in the area. She was pleased to tell me her story and have her photo taken in the store, and I wish I had had more time to hear more. Her husband died several years ago, so she runs the restaurant alone. It still features the Peruvian chicken, but also offers a few Salvadorean specialties-- tamal de pollo was advertised the day I was there. I didn’t ask her about the rise in competition from the numerous small diner types of Latin-American restaurants that cater to the ethnic population here, but her restaurant seemed to offer a more Americanized-type of atmosphere, almost a fast-food franchise feel to the seating, clean floors, and large windows.

It was interesting to compare it with the much smaller, “hole-in the wall” place I went to with Betty, another friend and fellow traveler of foodways experiences, several days earlier that advertised Peruvian-Salvadorean-Mexican fare and didn’t particularly cater to “Anglos.” Also, it struck me in contrast to the very busy Mexican bakery and chicken place on the opposite corner of the shopping center. People tend to gather around the familiar and in places that make them feel at home. Was this restaurant teetering in the balance of appealing to “Americans” and “ethnics?” Or were people just going to where others spoke with similar accents and could talk about the same places “back home?”

More research, more tasting, and more talking to people working and eating there is called for. In the meantime, I admire the strength of women who come from another country to make a life in a new one, oftentimes without family or friends, then experience heartaches that accompany all lives but seem to visit them more, and then somewhere continue. The least I can do is order another meal from them.

 

 

Comfort Food—To each his/her own (3/26/2013)

I’ve thinking lately about comfort food, primarily because I’m putting together a panel on the topic for a conference (American Folklore Society in Providence, RI in Oct., 2013). That got me looking at scholarship on the subject, but it also got me thinking about what comfort food is. The Oxford English Dictionary defines it rather obviously as “food that comforts or offers solace,” but that doesn’t offer any clues as to what foods those are, how they work, and why we might need comforting anyway.

The last question became obvious over a few days when I visited my 89-year-old father. Although he is in remarkably good health and looks 75 or younger, he is recovering from pneumonia and suddenly feeling the aging process. I usually cook for him when I visit, and these are usually foods from his Appalachian childhood—hominy, grits, beans, greens. He now tends to add some chunks of canned salmon, canned applesauce, and ketchup to everything he eats, which is actually very healthy, but has a disconcerting effect on the aesthetics of the meal for the rest of us. Because of an uncomfortable family situation (which I won’t go into here, but could use as the basis for numerous blogs and books as well as perhaps, crimes), I didn’t cook for him this time. Instead, we went out to eat or I brought in food. It was obviously not the same. He wanted the comfort of familiar foods and familiar routines.

Instead, he took what comfort he could in going to restaurants that held memories for him, that allowed him to be nostalgic about his own history and about his wife, my mother, who died three years ago. Some of these were more successful than others in terms of offering solace and emotional sustenance. For example, we went to a Vietnamese restaurant, in honor of his having worked in Saigon for 4 years up until the “end” of the war in 1975. I stayed with him there for a semester of college, so I chose a café specializing in noodle soups (pho) that reminded me of the inexpensive but delicious meals I consumed in market places and sidewalk vendor stands. For me, these were comfort foods, reminding me of youthful adventures as well as special times with my father (my mother and siblings had lived in Bangkok rather than Saigon for safety reasons). My father, however, did not remember those years. What he did remember was frequenting a different restaurant in the Vietnamese enclave of shops (the Eden Center in Falls Church, VA). That restaurant had belonged to a Vietnamese refugee whom he had known in Saigon and then helped get established in the US. That restaurant, the Four Seasons, had since moved to another part of town, but he brought it up repeatedly as where he had wanted to go. He used to take my mother there on Sunday afternoons, and he liked seeing the “fruits” of his own generosity and friendship to the restaurant owner. Plus, I think he sometimes got a discount! The point, though, was that the food itself seemed to hold no comfort for him; it was the place that would have comforted. He enjoyed the meal, especially since he got to visit with my college age daughter, but it didn’t “nourish” him emotionally as it did me.

This got me thinking more about comfort foods, though, and how each of us have our own memories, our own histories, and our own tastes that make some foods comforting. When I asked my own children (now in the twenties) what foods they considered comfort foods, one responded with a list of items (grits and hash browns that I usually made for her; potato salad that her grandmother made), while another said “anything that Meema made.” He couldn’t think of anything specific until I reminded him of an essay he had written in high school about his grandmother making pancakes in any shape requested, including pterodactyls. It was the shapes, not the pancakes, themselves that he remembered fondly and made him nostalgic for the long summer days spent with his grandparents. My own comfort foods would not fit the usual American expectations of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, etc, but reflect my own multicultural history of growing up in the American South and Appalachian mountains, and far east and southeast Asia—hominy, cornbread, Korean bulgogi and kimchi. Also, I realized that more recent events had introduced foods that to me represented comfort, or at least memories that nurtured and soothed—soda bread from a year in Northern Ireland, flan from a year in Spain, corn casserole from decades in the American Midwest.

So what does this tell us about comfort food? It’s different for each of us. We all have different pasts as well as different needs for comfort. My comfort foods give me a sense of continuity with the numerous homes I have had and people I have known. They remind me of good times, or at least, times that made a mark on me in some way, and that are now a part of my history. And I realize that I need them when I feel dislocated somehow and distanced from those places and people. They comfort me in reminding me that I am part of things larger than myself and that my life has been rich and full. And that last adjective can be taken literally and metaphorically.

One last question—actually, several: Why do we (Americans) usually think of comfort food as being unhealthy, loaded with carbohydrates, fats and sugar? And why is only some food comforting? Why not all of it? 

Polish-American Food: Stanley’s Market in North Toledo

Thursday, August 16, 2012

(Part of the research I'm doing for the Center's series on foodways traditions in northwest Ohio...)

I spent a delightful Thursday at Stanley’s Market in North Toledo in what used to be a neighborhood with thriving businesses run by and catering to the Polish community there. Most of the Polish immigrants came to Toledo in the early 1900s to work in the auto industry and settled in two neighborhoods, Lagrinka (which turned into LaGrange Street) and Kuschwantz. Both neighborhoods centered on a catholic church (St. Hedwig’s) and were essentially villages where people spoke Polish to one another, purchased familiar foods, and enjoyed a familiar cultural and social life. As the immigrants settled in and became established, though, they began moving to suburbs where their children could become Americanized and attend better schools. Some of the old businesses remained, and families frequently returned to them to purchase items for holidays, family reunions, and for “old time’s sake.”

Stanley’s Market began in 1932 as a kielbasa stand by a Ukranian immigrant (national borders at the time were somewhat vague and cultures and languages were frequently shared). In 1935, he bought the building where the Market is today and became known for his homemade sausage (kielbasa). He sold the business after “the war” (WWII) to a Polish family who still runs it today.

Joe, the son, is a friendly and hospitable businessman and promoter of Polish culture. The market still features his renowned kielbasa along with pierogi, sauerkraut, hot dog sauce, horse radish, bakery breads, and other Polish items (sweet and sour cabbage, stuffed cabbage rolls, potato pancakes). A special shelf stocks Polish beers and liquors, and the walls are decorated with Polish items, including a blackboard with the Polish word for the week. T-shirts with Stanley’s Market inscribed on them and mugs with Polish writing are also offered. Obviously, Polish pride is taken for granted!

Other items are included that reflect the changing neighborhood—southern “soul” food items like catfish nuggets, corn bread mixes, batter for frying chicken or pork chops. Also, some of the Polish food has been “up-dated.” Marjoram is the featured herb in the kielbasa, but with the growing popularity of spicy dishes and chilis, Hungarian paprika has been added to make a hot version. The sausages are also smoked, and these are frequently sold as snacks to be eaten on the spot. (or in the car on the way home…)

Several customers stopped to chat with us as we videotaped the store. One said that he was 73 years old and had been shopping there longer than Joe had run the place. A woman had run out of bread and had to come shopping a day earlier than her usual weekly shopping day. Another woman said she remembered her mother calling the “pigs-in-a-blanket”or cabbage rolls glomka in Polish. She said she always came to Stanley’s to buy them. Others said they came here for the kielbasa and pierogi. It was the last store left in the area that made those items.

The surroundings of the store suggested it’s lone status as a hold-out of the old neighborhood. Boarded up windows and abandoned buildings spoke of the disappearance of the old Polish community, whether through aging or suburban-flight. Even the beautiful old churches were dwindling in their use and were closing their congregations. Joe and other customers wistfully mused that children don’t appreciate the old ways but that it’s also the nature of progress and moving on. Maybe, though, the future can include not only recognition and celebration of the Polish heritage but also see some of that heritage as vital and useful to living today. That’s easy to imagine at a venue like Stanley’s Market, where the food speaks volumes about ethnicity and is also very, very tasty.

For more information about Stanley’s Market, see http://stanleysmarket.com.

An excellent resource for information on the Polish in Toledo is the Toledo Polish Genealogical Society, http://tpgs02.org/history.htm.

Stanley’s Market is being featured in our educational documentary video series on Northwest Ohio Foodways Traditions. See www.foodandculture.org.

July 3, 2012  Latino Food at the Dayton Cityfolk Festival

The Dayton Cityfolk Festival was this past weekend (June 29-July 1), and I had the honor of working in the Latino Culture Tent with artists and cooks representing a number of countries from Central and South America (and Texas, which likes to consider itself its own country). Most of the individuals now live in Ohio, and it is a reminder of the wealth of cultures we have here as well as the diversity that gets lumped under the terms “Latino” or “Hispanic.”

A good example was in one of the foodways panels that I helped moderate. Gloria is Mexican-American from San Antonio, Texas who moved to northwest Ohio when she was a child. Leticia was born in Mexico City but came to Columbus, OH when she was 28; and Yasmina, of Croatian heritage, grew up in Argentina before immigrating to the US to Yellow Springs, Ohio. All three are considered Latina, but have had very different experiences and very different thoughts on their ethnicity—and how it is expressed through their food. And their food is very different.

They all discussed the ways in which their food has evolved. Some ingredients that used to be regional are now easier to get now: Gloria remembers her mother not being able to get chili peppers in northwest Ohio, so having to depend on relatives or friends bringing them back from Texas when they visited. That gradually changed, but even now, the variety of peppers is not available in the stores (or they’re expensive). She has friends who grow different kinds and give them to her. Leticia could get any regional ingredient she needed in Mexico City, since it’s the hub of commerce for the country. Columbus offers a lot, but not as much as Mexico City, and chili peppers were not a problem for Yasmina at all since they are not used in traditional Argentinean or Croatian cooking. She said the most important food in Argentina is beef, and grilling meat is the national foodways and pastime. (Sounds like they have a lot in common with many Anglo-Americans!)

Tortillas are similarly complicated. The corn “flour” for corn tortillas, the traditional type in Mexico is processed with alkaline (lime, potash, ashes, lye) in order to soften the hull. This process, known as nixtamalization, also releases niacin (vitamin b), making the corn healthier to eat. Hominy (posole) is made this way. The softened corn kernels have to be rinsed carefully and then are ground to make the dough for the tortillas, which traditionally accompany every meal. This is usually a daily chore, and a demanding one. Gloria said that her mother always made flour tortillas since they couldn’t get the corn flour in northwest Ohio, but she also remembers the tortillas in Texas being wheat also. Leticia found that strange since corn is so central to Mexican foodways (and is held sacred in older belief systems). I wonder if it might reflect the Colonial Anglo-American preference for wheat flour and wheat bread and the dismissal of corn as being animal feed and the food of the “savages.” Gloria thinks it was just a matter of what was available, but the others want to look into that more.

Yasmina’s yerba mate tradition drew a lot of attention, partly because audiences thought she was smoking something somewhat illegal! It is a tea that has long been used in Argentina and Paraguay and has numerous anti-oxidants. It is also a stimulant and can be used in place of coffee. According to Yasmina, it is drunk all day long in Argentina, and a bowl is oftentimes shared with friends. The part that caught peoples’ attention was the way that it is served—in a small gourd with a wooden straw. She also had variations on that—elaborate silver and decorated bowls and straws. She shared the tea with anyone willing (which, of course, included me). It was naturally bitter, so she put sugar in it. She said the leaves were boiled in milk to give to children.  She sent me home with all the makings for it that I need, so I plan to experiment with it, all in the name of research, of course!

packages of yerba mate

Yasmina explaining yerba mate

Breads and tamales on the Mexican Day of the Dead table.

Gloria telling how to make Mexican bread pudding (cheese, no eggs or milk)

Corn and peanuts at the Mexican Day of the Dead Altar

 (with her friend/assistant from Peru)

Leticia's Mexican Day of the Dead altar

The experiences I had at the festival affirmed my opinion of Latin cultures generally being warm and hospitable, eager to share their food, their knowledge, and their good times. (That was demonstrated on Saturday night after the festival closed, and the musicians stayed up until 2 a.m. entertaining the rest of us.) It was fascinating to get to know the artists and cooks as individuals, though. Like all of us, they each have their own story to tell and their own take on their cultural identity. Also, for our good fortune, they each have their own recipes, too!