Chicago Spaniard
(Photo: Smoked chorizo in beer-laced arroz; one of this secretly Hispanic blogger’s best childhood friends.)
Perhaps the biggest open secret in my life is my heritage. The Irish last name is a red herring. I’m actually one-hundred percent Hispanic. Mom was a first-generation American born to Spaniard parents. My father was Puerto Rican. Him I never knew, but mom brought up all of her children white-bread American. By other children, I’m referring to the brother and sister I rarely reference and haven’t known in years. There’s a deeply substance-abusive reason for that on their part, but that’s a backstory for another time.
The point today is that although I never did learn to speak Spanish in childhood (and, boy, did it kill my mom to hear me coming home from college speaking French and Italian), I did learn a thing or two in the kitchen. My most cherished culinary memory from childhood will always be my mom’s Spanish rice. It’s been my go-to dish for years and will be again tonight as I bring a couple of vats of it to the Gapers Block potluck dinner meeting for the Drive-Thru food & drink staff.
I spent many pre-teen nights noshing on the chorizo I had secretly picked out from this beer-infused, Iberian-inspired paella. Find the recipe and learn why mom always said Budweiser was a cooking beer, not a drinking beer (a contention with which I wholeheartedly concur), in my write-up today on Gapers Block, Goya or Bust: My NYC Mom’s Arroz con Chorizo.
Just keep your paletas to yourself. Those days are over.
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I’ve discovered the hard way that I’m allergic to sazón, which pretty much means that I can’t eat ANY Puerto Rican food.
It’s likely the MSG in it. You can always just go the expensive route and buy real saffron. Sazón is pretty much just saffron flavoring, garlic salt, and MSG anyway.
Mmm. What time’s dinner?