Posts by Contributor:
- Know that the amount of sugar you are working with will depend on the size of flan you’re making. Start with 3/4 cup of granulated sugar for an 8-inch flan mold.
- Use the mold that you’re baking the flan in. This will eliminate transferring the caramel and will minimize wasting some good, good, stuff.
- When caramelizing sugar, make sure to constantly stir with a wooden spoon, so as to prevent clumping and burning!
- If using a gas stove, keep your heat at medium temperature but continue to stir until sugar has melted down to a liquid. Gas stoves will liquify quicker. If using an electric stovetop, keep temperature at medium to high, continuing to stir until it has completely liquified and you’ve achieved a lovely cognac color.
- Cinnamon Creme Flan, a delicious combination of creme cheese, cinnamon and dark Jamaican rum.
- Goat Cheese Flan with Brandy Reduction Sauce, the reduction is made with French Brandy and apple cranberry juice.
- 9 Spice Rum and Ginger Flan, a sexyt flan for two recipe to make for a sweetheart, or for just for you, of course.
- 1 cup of sugar
- 1 cinnamon stick
- 3 cloves
- 1 cup orange juice
- 1/4 cup water
- 1 – 12 ounce bag of fresh, whole cranberries
How to Make Perfect Flan Caramel (Recipe)
January 28th, 2012Making Flan Caramelo
Making Flan Caramel
By Bren Herrera
Okay, chicas and fellas (those gutsy enough to explore beyond grilled cheese and eggs), making flan is not rocket science.
It is, however, an art and one that requires a certain level of technique.
I’ve been toying, for lack of a better word, with making flan for over 15 years and I’m still always learning something new. That’s really only because I love thinking outside the box and find a need to create mucho sabores. The classic vanilla flan is extraordinary and I’d say the most popular one, but why stop there!? It’s such a decadent, rich and creamy postre that deserves sitting on a pretty pedestal of colorful and aromatic flavors.
You can see more of all those luscious flan creations here. For now, the one trick to making a superb flan is the caramelo. I hear a lot of grunts and
frustrated home bakers when they’ve either burned their sugar or didn’t get the right color.
Tips for Making Flan Caramel
Y ahi! You should have a perfect caramel to coat your flan mold.
Flanboyant Eats Flan Recipes
Earl Grey Flan by Bren Herrera
Try these recipes from my blog, Flanboyant Eats, and let me know how you do.
Bren Herrera is a professional singer/songwriter, classically trained cellist, self-taught chef and published writer. The Cuban-born Herrera, who lives in Atlanta, writes the food blog, Flanboyant Eats, and the fashion site, B So Chic!
Worthy of Love
January 25th, 2012Wrong Men, Wrong Choices
by Sujeiry Gonzalez
Once upon a time there was a girl in her 20s who loved the wrong men.
The men she longed for were never available. Not emotionally or otherwise.
But they were fine.
Donning goatees and blessed with a nose with a long bridge, the squinty-eyed fellows caught Sujeiry’s attention instantly. She’s not half bad either. Her long and full hair can go from curly to straight. Her exuberant smile warms a room. And let’s not forget her tiny, yet round Dominican booty.
The story continues with a culprit – a bottle of Bacardi mixed with Coca Cola and bouts of insecurity. Drunk dialing was this 20-something’s poison. She’d stand on street corners and yell into her cell phone: “WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME!”
She sobbed on shoulders and crumbled on bar stools. She emailed long accusatory letters only to later regret her pendeja*a. You see, Sujeiry was once unsure of her worth.
And so she chose the wrong men.
Men who cheated. Men who didn’t reciprocate her love. Men who left her for the ghosts of exes past.
Those were her Love Trips – the journey and relationship stumbles that have led to the present moment where she realizes she is amazing.
Making Better Choices
I know I am amazing.
At 33-years-old, I make better choices. My experiences haven’t brought me down or embittered me. On the contrary, they have served a purpose. I am more aware of my actions and myself. I know the motivation and intention behind my words and choices.
No longer a naïve and insecure 20-something, I refuse to chase men. I demand to be courted and respected. See that cutie by the bar? If he digs me, he must approach me. If he wants to get to know me, he must wander over, stand beside me and talk to me. Offer me a drink (Bacardi and Coca Cola is still my favorite) and, before the night ends, ask for my number.
This wasn’t always the case. I wasn’t always this strong and wise. We all have our weak moments, don’t we? We, as women, often put ourselves second and third and fourth. We don’t always give ourselves enough value.
I was once that girl. A girl in her 20s who loved the wrong men.
Until she realized she is worthy of love.
Sujeiry Gonzalez is the author of “Love Trips: A Collection of Relationship Stumbles,” from a collection of columns for Blogger, MiGente and SiTV. Her comedic personality, unique voice and talent have led her to pen relationship highs and lows for Latina magazine and online sites such as SoLatina and Mamiverse. Find her stories, videos and much more on LoveSujeiry.com.
The Susto Set: Latino Hope, Healing, and Rituals
January 4th, 2012Folkloric Beliefs for Susto and Other Ailments
By Angela Fregoso
Let me curar you of “Susto.”
Hay mi’ja tiendes “Susto!”
Is Susto some kind of a disease? No, this is a comment you often heard from your grandmother or a great aunt if you grew up in a Latino family, and which I especially heard all the time growing up in the Botanica my grandmother opened more than 60 years ago.
So, for Susto — which is described by a soul or spirit rocked by a shocking event — then came the egg, pierda de alumbre, calming tea, the candles and incense to cleanse you of the shock and anxiety that you had just experienced.
These days, you can actually purchase a Susto Set with complete ritual instructions to reverse anxiety symptoms caused by shock — any kind of shock. (Susto, by the way, also is known as “espanto.”)
The Susto Set includes a Guardian Angel candle, dressing oil, an ojo de venado, (mint marigold) also as known as Yerbaniz tea, and complete ritual instructions — if you don’t have an abuela or Tia to do it for you.
The Ritual to Reverse el Susto
The first step of the ritual is to light the Guardian Angel, place three drops of dressing oil inside the candle followed by a meditation session of your petition. The Guardian Angel is one of the patron Angels assigned to protect and guide a particular person and can be traced to the 5th century.
After you light your candle and spend time meditating on your petition, the next step is to burn the Pierda de Alumbre (Alum Crystal) in a pan. While the rock melts an image will form and will reveal the event that caused the “Susto.”
Now you can start focusing on a solution. The Susto Set also instructs you to carry the ojo de venado for protection from negative energy.
Another common belief in the Latino culture is that some individuals’ negative energy is so strong that their penetrating eyes can cast bad luck and give you mal de ojo or, in English, Evil Eye Disease.
If you feel your dilemma needs an extra strength approach, you can go to a Spiritual Reader, a Healer or Curandero who will pray over you and cure your symptoms with an egg. It is spirit cleansing.
Finally, the Susto ritual requires you drink Yerbaniz tea for nine days before you go to bed.
The Healing Rituals of Latino Culture
The Susto Set Ritual is one of many rituals that have been passed down by word of mouth in the Latino culture. But, there also are candle rituals for love, luck, money and protection. Whatever you need
And then there also is the drinking of teas for ailments. Latinos have been drinking teas as a form of traditional medicine for centuries.
A very popular herb at the moment is the Nopal tea. This tea is extracted from the cactus plant and is sold in many forms and also mixed in with other herbs and teas like green tea, Milk Thistle and Pau D’Arco. It supports healthy sugar, cholesterol and blood pressure already in normal range and supports a healthy bone structure.
There’s also Chaya tea, a common tea traditionally used in Mexico. This tea is packed with vitamins and minerals and thought to be especially good for diabetes
Now, the use of traditional folk medicine has become a billion dollar industry. There are hundreds of herbs commonly used as preventive medicine But, what tea formula was brewed in your kitchen growing?
Practicing Rituals Before it Was Trendy
I truly believe Latinos are way ahead of their time. Long before the popular Yoga and meditation classes, Latinos were performing rituals to calm their anxieties and to find a sense of purpose.
Long before the modern expansion of the all natural approach use as preventative medicine, Latinos were commonly using herbs as a form of healing.
Long before self help coaching seminars, we were going to Curaderos for words of wisdom and long before the feminist movement, we were turning to the strong women in our lives for guidance and direction.
Embrace your herbal remedies, continue your rituals, listen to wise man or woman in the neighborhood and honor the strong women in your life.
As yes, I still carry an “ ojo de venado” in my purse.
Y Tu?
What traditional folkloric beliefs did you grow up with?
Were you ever despojada? Did you ever get treated for Susto, or know someone who did?
What rituals and remedies do you still practice?
Angela Fregoso’s grandmother opened her first Botanica more than 60 years ago and eventually operated more than 13 grocery stores. Angela, a licensed attorney and business consultant in the Houston area, is the national marketing director for the family business, called Tex-Mex Curios, which operates in Corpus Christi and online.
Gritos al Cielo: Latina Prayers for Patience
December 22nd, 2011¡Ay! Virgencita, Ayudame!
By Jessie Nuez
¡Ay! Gran Poder de Dios!
¡Ay! Virgencita de la Altagracia ilumíname el camino a la tranquilidad.
María Santísima que estaré yo pagando!
Dios de la Vida, Padre Celestial, cuida de mi que no quiero cometer una locura hoy!
Dios de la vida, Padre Celestial dame la fuerza para no cometer una barbaridad!
¡Valgame, Dios!
Any of these phrases sound familiar?
Prayers for Miracles and Fortitude
Calling out to los gran poderosos, el Señor y los Santos for help — often asking for patience, serenity and fortitude was, and still is, a rite of passage.
This great phenomenon of echarle un grito al cielo has been passed down by many generations of Latinos and continues to comfort through the desire to darle un chancletazo a alguien, or to simply let out some steam — preventing us from committing a heinous act.
My most recent grito al cielo went like this:
“Ay Virgencita del Altagracia dame paciencia para no volverme loca!”
I was sick and so was my son. Vicks-Vaporu-on-the-chest sick. That sick.
Paciencia needed, indeed.
El grito al cielo helped.
It usually does.
Y Tu?
How do you remember your mom, or abuela, or dad praying out loud, pegandandole un grito al cielo? Whether they were angry, frustrated, hopeful, seeking patience in the face of kids or a daily difficulty?
Do you remember a lot of “Dame paciencia!” (Give me patience!)
If you’re a Latin kid, I am guessing you heard quite a few colorful versions at home.
Jessie Nuez was born and raised in New York City. She can be found talking about social media and technology on Twitter (@jessienuez). You can also find Jessie writing on her bilingual site Hecho Para Mamá.
Pretending to Believe in Santa, a Confession
December 20th, 2011
What I Overheard About Santa
By Cynthia Martinez
I was one of those kids who acted like she believed in Santa Claus until I was 13. Well, 13 was the last year I was allowed to get away with my “believing in Santa charade” — something I did for my own personal gift gain.
You see my Santa bubble was busted when I was 7. At the time, my family and I lived in a studio apartment in Echo Park. Bless my parents for trying to pull a Santa trick in the same room that I slept in.
And though 7-year-old me was really proud for having solved the mystery of Santa Claus, my mother failed at answering how he came to our house with no chimney, I didn’t jump up and down as I had wanted to do, screaming at the top of caprichosa Iungs: “I GOTCHA.” And it wasn’t because I was taking the high road, it was because I overheard this whispered conversation in the middle of my parents Santa Claus shuffle:
Mom to Dad: “Ayy dios I think we went overboard for these brats”
Dad to Mom: “Yea…how many more years of this do we have?”
Mom to Dad: “No se, don’t they stop believing in Santa when they’re like 12 or 13?”
Dad to Mom: “Hmmm, well I guess they better appreciate the extra presents while they can.”
Now there was more to this conversation but, in all honesty, it’s a blur, because at that very moment I realized that if I acted all Sherlock Holmes I would be spending the rest of my Christmas’ without Santa presents, and that was not a reality I wanted to live.
So I kept my mouth shut and even threw in a snore to throw them off the scent, just in case. The next morning I woke up and acted as if Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, los Tres Reyes, and the Easter Bunny were all in my living room/bedroom and very loudly exclaimed how I loved Santa and would die if anything would ever happen to him or Rudolph, for that matter.
Pretending for Presents
And every year following that year, I would do the same routine. I would begin the usual routine of acting like a Saint starting on Thanksgiving (because everyone knows Santa’s memory only goes back to his last turkey binge). And, of course, I would have my Santa letter ready by December 1st in order to ensure proper delivery.
To be honest, my favorite part of my Santa-believing charade was my letter writing campaign. While my sisters and cousins asked for the newest this or that, I would write long letters highlighting the worst moments of my year and then often asked for peace on earth and if he could just take my sisters away.
Basically I asked for the impossible, perhaps if anything, to make my parents feel guilty and then compensate by giving me the gift I’d been hollering about all month like my She-Ra Barbie doll, or even better that doll that was taller than me (don’t judge, let’s remember who was lying first.)
My last letter to Santa went a little something like this:
Dear Santa,
I hope this letter finds you well. It’s me Cynthia, by the way, the forgotten child of Eleonora and Julian, just in case you too forgot who I was.
This year I have been a really good girl except for a small incident here and there, but it’s because…..let me just come out and say it. They SAY YOU ARE NOT REAL! Santa don’t get hurt, I believe in you! But having to deal with defending you to my little sisters especially has caused us to fight more than regular this year, so I’m sorry for that. I just get so mad when they say you are not real. Anyways Santa say hi to Mrs. Claus. Dad said he saw a picture of her and she looks like she’s been eating your cookies this year, so I’ll put out some extra ones for you.
This year all I want is for my parents to give me extra love and for my sisters to go away.
Love You,
Cynthia
Christmas Never Was the Same
Shortly after that particular Christmas, my parents spilled the beans on Santa, I was 13 and acted devastated and, oddly, found that ice cream was my only comfort….And then my parents found out about my little Santa charade when I got a little too ice cream happy and had started handing out Santa Charade advice to one my younger sisters.
Christmas, to be honest, has never been the same…with less presents and all.
Cynthia Martinez spends her days trying all the newest fad diets and nights shoving her face with pan dulce, because isn’t that what all good Latinas do? After leaving the world of labor relations to pursue her artistic passions, Cynthia can now be found writing over at Fat Girl Escapades.
Mi Burrito Sabanero and Songs of the Season
December 9th, 2011
Click the headline link to see the YouTube video of Mi Burrito Sabanero and hear the lyrics.
By Bohemian Babushka
“Si-i-lent Night, Ho-o-ly Night. All is calm, All is bright…”
As a child I remember being enchanted and entranced by the haunting music of Silent Night. Not only was the melody so peaceful and calming, but the lyrics spoke of a dreamlike world, one that could only live in my imagination.
Silent? Calm? In a Cuban household? JU SO FONII!!!
Bueno, we did get the “bright” part of it right. OK, OK, si, I know, I found out years later that this song is also in Spanish; I didn’t know that and thought it must be a school-only song because it definitely didn’t reflect any Christmas I had ever known.
And how about White Christmas or the ever popular, Winter Wonderland? Niñita de Miami, I knew these had to be make-believe, kinda like Frosty the Snowman. Now, the Little Drummer Boy- at least that one had a drum in it and I could relate.
As an adult I, of course, enjoy a slew of holiday songs, with topics ranging from sleigh bells to the sentimental. However, my first Spanish Christmas song will always be my all-time favorite, Mi Burrito Sabanero.
The classic version of this song is the one we played in our fiestas Navideñas, and no one sat when this was on, everyone danced, young and old. ♫♪Tuqui, Tuqui, Tuqui, Tuqui, Tuqui, Tuqui, Tuqui, Tu ♫♪
Isn’t this the perfect Christmas song? It tells the story of Christ’s birth, es bailable, the voice of the little boy pulls at the heart strings, and it’s even a bit comical if you visualize it. The Little Drummer Boy done up Latin-Style. Come on now, can’t you just see that burrito trotting hurriedly to see the King while the claymation Little Drummer Boy is being jostled up and down?
Esta bien, it’s true, I’m a child of the ‘60s, but you have to admit, the visual will get you smiling. And isn’t that what the songs of the season should have you do? So be it for glorifying or gratitude, joy or joyful memories, sing and celebrate from the heart the true reasons for the season.
Babushka Besos a todos. Cuidensen.
The Bohemian Babushka is a First-Generation, coffee-crazed Cuban-American raised in Miami. Mother of 3, grandmother of 4, she speaks straight from the heart and shoot straight from the hip. Some have described her as a “human shot of espresso” because she’s Earnest in her Extremism. Almost 50, always nifty, sashaying in heels and soliloquizing in Spanglish. Basking in being bilingual- blabbing and bailando all the way.
Mi Burrito Sabanero Lyrics
Con mi burrito sabanero
Voy camino de Belén,
Con mi burrito sabanero
voy camino de Belén,
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén.
El lucerito mañanero
ilumina mi sendero,
El lucerito mañanero
ilumina mi sendero,
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén,
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén.
Tuqui tuqui tuqui tuqui
tuqui tuqui tuquita
apúrate mi burrito
que ya vamos a llegar.
Tuqui tuqui tuqui tuqui
tuqui tuqui tuquita
apúrate mi burrito
vamos a ver a Jesús.
Con mi cuatrito voy cantando
mi burrito va trotando,
con mi cuatrito voy cantando
mi burrito va trotando,
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén.
Con mi burrito sabanero
Voy camino de Belén,
Con mi burrito sabanero
voy camino de Belén,
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén.
Tuqui tuqui tuqui tuqui
tuqui tuqui tuquita
apúrate mi burrito
que ya vamos a llegar.
Tuqui tuqui tuqui tuqui
tuqui tuqui tuquita
apúrate mi burrito
vamos a ver a Jesús.
Con mi burrito sabanero
Voy camino de Belén,
Con mi burrito sabanero
voy camino de Belén,
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén
si me ven, si me ven
voy camino de Belén.
Juanes Does Mi Burrito Sabanero (Video)
Raising Puppy, not Baby
November 28th, 2011Can a Puppy Fix your Bio Clock?
Cynthia Martinez and Chaplin.
By Cynthia Martinez
Stereotypically speaking, there might be something wrong with me. I am nearing my 29th birthday, and I don’t have eight kids yet…I don’t even have one.
The best part: It’s not because I can’t have them, it’s because I don’t want them at this time. (I think I just heard every living woman in my family gasp a “Madre Santisma” as they reached for their Holy Water). I know…bad Latina…bad.
The thing is my clock doesn’t tick. I see babies being born left and right and instead of going “aww, que cute,” much to my Mami’s dismay, you hear me going “Ayy Dios, I bet that one cries a lot…eeek.”
And really if it weren’t for my Mami, who once pestered me once a month on the baby issue, I don’t think I would be in the furry predicament I am in right now.
Last year, my Mami, who according to my husband is in extreme denial of my mothering capabilities, gave me the “baby talk” of all baby talks…I mean she brought out fear and guilt. She cried because she said she had a premonition that I would die young.
“Y si eso pasaria, what would be left of you?…nada, no little Cynthia to remember you by …and how could you do that to me?” she cried.
When she saw that angle was losing its effect she brought out the fear.
“The longer you wait, the more probability, something could be wrong with the baby, I mean look at your hermanita, I was a 34-year-old vieja when I had her, and well do I have to say more?”
She said this as she pointed with her mouth towards my now 16-year-old sister, who was oblivious to the fact we were talking about her.
Now, there isn’t really anything wrong with my sister… clinically anyways, but it got me wondering if there was something wrong with me for not wanting a baby, and if perhaps it was just me psyching myself out with fear of not being able to deal with the pain and sacrifice of childbirth, and motherhood in general. Perhaps I just lacked faith in my abilities to be a good mother.
Bringing Home Puppy
On to my current predicament: So on October 27, 2010, in an effort to appease my mother’s need for a grandchild and to test out my mothering skills, I adopted a 1-½ pound bundle of four legs named Chaplin.
At first my Mami fought me on the idea, saying she didn’t think she could love an adopted grandchild as much as one that came from her own blood, but with time I knew she would be won over.
The problem has been that my biological clock could not be made to tick and since Chaplin arrived it has been made blatantly clear to everyone that perhaps I should just stick to my day job.
In other words I have raised a screwed up and spoiled puppy.
Sure, upon the arrival of my first born I was nothing but the doting mother; I even took two days of maternity leave to bond with my little princess. But really unless you are a mother with a whiny baby you have no idea what kind of hell I went through the first two weeks of her arrival.
Every two hours I had to disrupt my beauty sleep to soothe my baby’s whimpering, feed her because she was malnourished when I got her, and begin the annoying task of potty training the un-trainable. For the first two weeks I was a rock star.
But on the third week, and you have to understand I was a young mother suffering from postpartum depression (that’s what I’m calling it, because yes it makes me feel better that I ignored my bebita during the formative years of her life), I began to waiver on the new mommy bandwagon, and passed on the responsibilities to my husband. I mean, after all, he was the daddy, how dare he think he could just enjoy the puppy kisses and puppy breath without any puppy feeding?
So, yes I slept through her whimpering, and I can’t say I felt too guilty, I’m all for the puppy learning self-soothing (I learned this term from a parenting book, so don’t judge me).
The problem with self-soothing is that eventually, yes puppies stop whimpering, but they don’t potty train themselves. They instead learn how to be devious and find places to do their puppy business at night where you step on it during one of your midnight stumbles to do your human business.
The Trouble with Puppy…and Me
Now if I had mommy instincts I’m sure the correct thing would have been to discipline Chaplin, and crate her, but you have no idea how much easier it was to wipe off my foot and go back to sleep. Hence now, Chaplin would never think of defecating in our backyard… that would be rude and unclassy…. she instead holds it in for the spot right next to, not on, her training pad inside our house every day.
Now my Mami, who is now the doting grandmother, has had a talk with me about this meaning I am lacking “cojones” and need to be firm with her, and unless I want to be wiping her butt the rest of her doggy years, I need to be firm with Chaplin and teach her who is Top Dog around here. The problem is that whenever I do try to discipline her, she runs to Abuelita for protection, and that little booger gets me in trouble, with the ultimate Top Dogs — my Mami and Papi.
The truth is having a puppy has more than proved to me and my Mami that I am not ready for a real child. Just the other day, she wanted me to assure her the hubby and I were using protection, and asked if I had ever thought of getting my tubos tied.
I suppose as long as I keep enabling my puppy’s paper fetish with paper to keep her quiet at night…I’m not Mami material just yet.
The truth is — and I am woman enough to admit this — there are times I think of dropping off my baby at Abuelita’s house and taking off until she reaches adulthood. Which, by the way, might be sooner than later and reminds me I need to come up with a bird and the bees talk, because I am not ready to be a grandma just yet either.
Cynthia Martinez spends her days trying all the newest fad diets and nights shoving her face with pan dulce, because isn’t that what all good Latinas do? After leaving the world of labor relations to pursue her artistic passions, Cynthia can now be found writing over at Fat Girl Escapades.
Homemade Thanksgiving Cranberry Sauce
November 14th, 2011
By Nicole Presley
I know many people reach for a can of cranberry sauce to dress the Thanksgiving table with a dash of red and to add a nice, sweet condiment for the bird. But, why not make it from scratch and bring the formalities up a notch?
The fresh taste of cranberries will make you gobble gobble gobble — in two languages.
Plus, making cranberry sauce is the easiest dish to make for the holidays, can be made up to 5 days ahead of time, and only takes about 10 minutes from start to finish.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Nicole’s Cranberry Sauce
Ingredients:
In a medium sauce pan over a medium flame, mix sugar, cinnamon stick, cloves, orange juice and water, until sugar dissolves.
Bring to a boil. Once boiling stir in cranberries.
The cranberries will begin to pop after a couple of minutes in the boiling orange juice mixture. When you hear the cranberries pop it’s time to smash/mash them down with a potato masher.
Remove from flame and place in a bowl. Let come to room temperature, Cranberry sauce will thicken as it cools. Place the cranberry sauce in the fridge covered if making a few days in advance.
Nicole Presley, a Tiki Tiki contributor, writes an original recipe food blog called Presley’s Pantry from her home in East Los Angeles. Apart from working on her blog everyday, she dedicates her time to raising her 2-year-old with her fiance, and dotes on her Mother.
Getting the Chancla: Love Taps?
November 6th, 2011
A Texas Judge beats his daughter, gets caught on video.
By Anonymous
The other day my Mami and I were watching “las ‘tal’noticias esas,” as she calls them, her jab at the fact that she feels news is no longer news. And just as my mom was about to nod off for her afternoon siesta, the anchorman introduced a video of a judge hitting his daughter, and posed the question: “Has he gone to far?”
All of a sudden my Mami perked up and said “Aver sube el volumen y shhhh” and she acted as if the Pope was about to give a speech.
The following is a glimpse into the conversation that ensued. Some the original content has been withheld in order to protect the identity of the author…meaning me, because Mami didn’t raise no fool:
Mami: “Mira esa *expletive,* she’s lucky she’s not my daughter, making her Papi work hard to teach her lessons…y bien merecida por seguro…with all that moving around, what does she think this is a joke o Mira Quien Baila?”
Daughter, who is having childhood flashbacks: “Maybe she doesn’t get hit often and hasn’t realized she has to play dead to get him to stop.”
Mami: “No seas berrinchuda …acting as if you played dead, since when did you play dead? I swear you where the only child I ever met that liked to get hit so much you would do backflips asking for one more chancletada. Besides, a good parent knows when their child is really dead, and playing with your parents emotions will only get you more chanclazos.”
Daughter who has learned her lessons and knows better than to point out the backflips where to get away from la chancla: “Look Mami, she keeps dancing around!”
Mami: “Que..que? Y todavia she puso that on video. Madre Santisma… where does she live? No eso es invasion of privacy? A la carcel con ella! Has he gone too far? Pfft…not far enough, te digo. Te recuerdas when you thought you were going to call La Policia on me? Her beating would have been worse than that. That mocosa would have been buried with the camera she thought was so cute to tape me with. Where is your sister? I want her to see this… I want to show her what she has coming the next time she tells me she won’t sign me into El Face Book…aver pressale rewind a esa *expletive.*”
(That expletive was in referece to my Mami’s new friend the DVR, it currently has about six novelas saved, from start to finish.)
As I ran to get my sister, fearing she would take out her rage at seeing that “malcriada” be victimized out on me, Mami got on the phone to alert las Tias that there was a kid on the loose who was threatening the sanctity of a good nalgazo. That conversation went a little like this:
“Oye, te recuerdas that time (the Anonymous author) broke the phone on her head trying to call the police? Bueno, ay una *expletive* que filmo a su papa pegandole, tu crees?…hmm mmmm mm… De acuerdo, we have to make un ejemplo de esa *expletive* so these mensos of ours don’t get any ideas. Yo no se que pasa con esta gente de este pais, por todo lo bueno que tiene, los parents are estupid… he should have checked the room first.”
So if you like me watched in horror as this young girl got beat and your mom acted as if it was a boxing match yelling at the TV “Y Uno mas para que se aplaque ” and her motto is “ Mejor that I show you love with my taps, than you get tapped in jail”….you know you are Latina.
At least the old-style, chancla-throwing, correa-hitting kind.
Y tu?
If you’ve seen, or heard about, the video of the Texas judge beating his then-16-year-old daughter, has it brought up questions for you about the corporal punishment of children? Were you spanked? Do you spank your children?
How do you feel about corporal punishment in familias?
Connecting with Latina Authors y Writing Tips
November 3rd, 2011
Latina authors Teresa Dovalpage, Lorraine Lopez and Marisel Vera
by Teresa Dovalpage
“Go and sell lots of books!” said my friend Raquelita when I left Taos on October 14th to participate in the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville. I nodded, encouraged. ¡Pues claro! Wasn’t that the point of attending a book fair after all?
Lorraine López, a creative writing professor at Vanderbilt University, is not only a great writer, but a terrific coordinator as well. She had managed to organize two panels for the festival. One was Cuentos Frescos, in which she read from her novel The Realm of Hungry Spirits (Grand Central Publishing, 2011). Marisel Vera read from If I Bring You Roses (Grand Central Publishing, 2011) and I brought Habanera, a Portrait of a Cuban Family (Floricanto Press, 2010).
I had already read The Realm but there is nothing like hearing an author give voice and flesh to her own words. Marina, a witty young woman in search of spirituality, came to life in the elegant Old Supreme Court Room throwing rotten grapefruits to a pushy ex-lover and an impertinent babalawo.
Marisel Vera introduced Felicidad, a Puerto Rican girl who goes grocery shopping for the first time in the U.S., and the place was instantly filled with garbanzos, gandules, juicy pork chops and aji peppers. I was so hungry for Hispanic (or Latino, we will get to that later) food that my mouth started to water.
As for my novel, the protagonist’s grandmother, modeled on my own abuela, came out as a Cuban version of a modern cougar, una puma cubana.
The foundation for our second panel, “The Other Latin@,” started as a labor of love by Lorraine Lopez and Blas Falconer. They put together a collection of essays that will be released in November 2011 by the University of Arizona Press. Lisa D. Chavez, a Chicana poet raised in Alaska and now living in Albuquerque; Helena Mesa, a Cuban-American poet residing in Albion, Lorraine López and I pondered about our Latinidad issues while Blas Falconer moderated the panel. Net time I would love to hear about his own Latino experience too.
Later I had the pleasure of meeting Carrie Ferguson Weir, who lives in Nashville where the event was held, and was surprised at how young she looked. After reading about how many things she has done and still does, I was definitely expecting una señora! (Ed. note: Carrie, la Tiki Tiki editor did not pay, or fish for, for that lovely compliment.)
I am back in Taos and now realize that the best part of these events is not really selling books, talking about them or even reading them, but meeting new people and forging ties with other writers. These ties will be further strengthened as we share our work with others. They will stretch from real life to the written (or blogged) page, and the other way around.
Five Tips on Starting a Novel
1. Write about s subject that you are familiar with. An adventure novel set up in Beijing may sound fascinating but unless you know the city quite well, it’s better to stay in a well known territory, at least at the beginning. I once happened to read a ms. about life in Havana where the main character “get off the subway at the Coppelia station.” This is sci-fi, I thought. (There is no subway in Havana, or anywhere in Cuba.)
2. If possible, establish a routine and try to write (or at least sit in front of the computer with the purpose of writing) one hour a day.
3. Don’t edit too much at first; let the ideas flow. You will have time to improve the style and work on the details after finishing the first draft. That’s why it is called, grossly but quite appropriately, the vomit draft.
4. When you are not sure about how a scene feels, read it aloud. It will give you great feedback about pacing and word choice. For example, the word “persnickety” looked great on the page but after reading it, I couldn’t imagine my fourteen-year-old character saying it with a straight face.
5. If the whole story is finished inside your cabeza and you feel the need to have an outline, write one. But don’t hesitate to go in another direction if a better idea comes knocking at your door.
“The beginning is half of everything.”
Teresa Dovalpage was born in Havana, Cuba in 1966 and presently lives in Taos, New Mexico, where she teaches Spanish and literature at UNM-Taos. Teresa has a Ph.D. in Latin American literature. She is the author of five novels — three in Spanish and two in English. She also has written a collection of short stories in Spanish and is a playwright. Read more about her at her site, her Spanish blog, and herEnglish blog.
