Now that the year is coming to a close, it’s time to reminisce on this year’s many adventures while we prepare for what the future may hold for us. Some of us may be excited for graduation, an upcoming trip, or simply a fresh start. Regardless, it is important to appreciate every stepping stone so that we can value the next learning experience even more.
During this past summer, I was fortunate enough to be able to participate in multiple study abroad opportunities. One of them was to Japan, a country with a cuisine arguably unlike the Latin American one that I habitually yearn for whenever hunger strikes. Although I enjoyed the rich umami from the sliver of soft noodles and fiery kick of spices pleasing my taste buds from every bowl of ramen, every bite of fresh vegetable-filled gyoza, and every sip of earthy matcha, I couldn’t help but miss my one true culinary love: the Latin American gastronomy.
I began to dream of empanadas, arepas, pabellón criollo, tequeños, tostones, plátanos maduros, mangú, cuatro golpes, ceviche, and many, many more dishes that grace the plates of Latin American households. Whether it was in the countryside or in the city, I walked Japan’s streets reminiscing about the privilege—especially on hot summer days—of being able to pick fruits off the trees on any sidewalk with the promise that they would always provide the most refreshing tastes you would ever be fortunate enough to experience.
I missed being able to rejoice over finding any hint of home on a plate, even from unrecognizable hands, with Japan being the only country that I have ever visited in which I couldn’t experience a taste of home due to not finding a Latin American restaurant that wasn’t Mexican. I missed being able to converse in my preferred language with others, being able to connect over a meal, debate its origins, and in the end agree that what matters is that it has our characteristically delicious sazón. I tried my best to find similar ingredients to what my taste buds yearned for, but I couldn’t find the resemblance in any convenience store or restaurant. I was at a loss, and each week was another that I spent dreaming about the flavors of home.
After three weeks, the first thing I did once I got home was raid the fridge. I lunged for any fruit that first captured my sight. Deep-ocean blueberries, fiery red-orange peaches, bright rosy red strawberries, and vibrant lush grassy green apples all called to me, begging for the honor of being my introduction back home, back to the culinary atmosphere that I have long coveted. Although it wasn’t handpicked off the street, it was more than enough to satisfy me. I instantly felt energized with what had unfortunately become a rare experience for my taste buds in three weeks, especially since I had only been able to have half a kiwi and the hints of select fruity flavors mixed into dishes during my time abroad.
In my desperation to enjoy the fresh crunch of a granny smith apple while washing blueberries, my mom stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, possibly wondering if I had eaten at all in three weeks. She interrupted my quest for nutritional treasure with the proposal of a delicious home-cooked meal. To say that I felt like the luckiest person in the world is a tremendous understatement, and I still don’t know how to express the immense gratitude I have for every culinary experience my mom produces. For my welcome home banquet, my mom had prepared one of my favorite meals, making me feel even more like a princess arriving back to her kingdom.
The kitchen counter had been graced with pabellón criollo, the national dish of Venezuela which is representative of the country’s Native, African, and Spanish influences. Pabellón criollo is traditionally made up of plátanos maduros (fried plantains), carne mechada (a traditional shredded beef culinary masterpiece), black beans, and white rice. Some additional toppings to Venezuela’s national dish include salty white cheese (for the plantains) and avocado (served on the side to provide a touch of freshness to the rich, savory meal).
Due to my love for plantains, my ratio of each element of pabellón criollo always results in making the plantains the star of the dish, and this feast celebrating my arrival back home was fortunately no exception. Upon my first bite, I felt the greatest level of connection to my culture, a sensation that I had been aimlessly and unsuccessfully looking for everywhere during my time in Japan. It was as if I had been transported back to Venezuela and could feel my whole family united under the same roof, with the memory of my grandmother’s voice, aunts’ laughter, and uncles’ dancing making its way into my soul with each satisfying mouthful.
Through dishes like pabellón criollo, I am able to experience the role food plays in our lives. Food is, of course, able to fill an empty stomach, but it’s also able to connect a person to their culture, unite individuals, cause a moment of reminiscence, and create a soul-warming experience. I have many good memories of discussing, preparing, cooking, and eating all types of food, with the culinary offerings of Latin America undoubtedly holding a special place in my heart. Consequently, I am now able to recognize that when I yearned for my favorite meals, in reality I was yearning for home and for the people that make each of those dishes special, along with the exquisite tastes that come with each plate.
For these reasons and many more, I have never been able to find the authority to declare any type of food disgusting. Each culinary product is dignified in its own way to its own target audience. Just because my taste buds rejoice over a smooth, green, fresh avocado and don’t particularly enjoy the smooth, green, pungent wasabi, that doesn’t mean that one should be universally tasty and the other disgusting. Simply, the case is that our gastronomic preferences are as varied as our communities.