ABOUT DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY AND ASSIMILATION SIDE DISHES: tamales de rajas, picadillo, jello salad, and a couple of pie favorites; pecan and apple.
Reasons for Mexicans to Celebrate Thanksgiving Part 3.
In the first newsletter to this series, about Why Mexicans Celebrate Thanksgiving, I wrote about the limitations on defining a Mexican identity from a south-of-the-border perspective, so what happens to this already complex construct once it crosses into the other side? which part of it continues to transform and which one struggles to remain the same? why? what does a person have to do, be or appear like to be considered an American citizen, or even further, a “Great American” citizen? and, who gets to decide that? As the iconic centerpiece of an American Thanksgiving dinner —from the pilgrims to these days— remains to be the turkey (of whose significance I dived into last week); the side dishes, on the other hand, seem to reflect a more flexible, inclusive, and diverse outlook of a dinner table, and probably of a nation too.
I was able to live in the United States in a privileged situation, one that was not mine but was extended to me from my mother because I was a minor and a student. I had a diplomatic status (or was a “diplomatic alien” as Mexican writer Valeria Luiselli would’ve put it[1]). That, as came I to understand, had a more basic underlying than the fact that one could get a passport and license plates with certain perks, a tax exemption card, and occasional complimentary tickets to sports games and events: it meant being shielded or “immune” to the real hardships of being a Mexican living in the US (including work, which I did anyway, with a temporary permit, of course). Another thing that shielded me apparently was my whiteness (I don’t even consider myself white but let’s say I’m in the lighter-side of brown); more than once I was said to, with a surprised look on someone’s face: “but, you don’t look Mexican” when being asked where I was from. Until then, I was completely unaware of my unMexicaness. So, what does Mexican look like, then? Is Mexican a color?
Diplomatic immunity does not make you blind or numb, though, it keeps you in a comfortable position, that’s true, but at the same time, it gives you a front-row view of the immigration stage-play, a safe but very close look at intolerance, discrimination, injustice, uncertainty, despair… and also, at hard work, nobility, drive, hope, and Mexican-American dreams actually being fulfilled.
Having my Mexicanity doubted with an undertone of it being some sort of a compliment was annoying but it never pissed me off as much as what another Mexican had to say once about fellow immigrants in the US (proving that stupidity carries a universal passport): what comes here from Mexico is the scum, she said (and from then on, the conversation didn’t take a very fortunate path). Somehow, that person was convinced that because of her social status —which wasn’t even her making but her parents— she belonged to “superior” breed Mexicans and that her actually being a self-made, shitty human being was irrelevant. The saddest thing about it is that taking into awareness the fact that the colonial mindset still hunts the collective psyche of Mexicans, that person actually represents the sentiments of a not-so-small portion of our contemporary society.
People in Latin America migrate to the United States every day for a million reasons, some do it out of desperation, others are guided by hope, and some are favored by opportunity. The idea of constructing a better life than the one left behind, though, lies at the backbone of this decision in almost every case. Shouldn’t that be taken as a strength and channeled into something productive rather than being seen as a threat to the status quo? People who risk their lives or put themselves through uncomfortable situations for the sake of a brighter future —or to legitimately escape the growing tentacles of residual “Third World” criminality produced, neglected, and invisibilized by “First World” capitalism—, tend to show great courage and resilience, and, it is more likely that, once an opportunity is handed to them, they size it, take care of it, work harder, become better, and can end up paving more resistant roads for those who come after them.
There are stories about immigration that break our hearts into little, almost indistinguishable pieces, about minors being carried in the arms of other minors onboard of a hell train and then being put into ice-cold cages, but then there are other stories that can help us reconstruct them because if we wove to each other, they can achieve enough elasticity and strength to hold a society together, no matter how broken. Such is the case of the lives of Sandra López, Mónica Gallardo, and Linda Campos, three Great American women with Great Mexican backgrounds, who through their family recipes as a metaphor of their lives and of their predecessors, show us how identity can evolve into something more beautiful and empowering by consciously combining the best bits and pieces of our cultures. So let’s be grateful.
[1] Luiselli, Valeria, Tell Me How It Ends, Copy House Press, 2017.
TAMALES DE RAJAS EN SALSA CON QUESO.
For 25 tamales
Tamales are actually one of the most sought-after celebratory dishes in the US during the holidays. For the Mexican-American community, they represent what stays, they’re a no-negotiable dish. So it happens in Sandra López’s house, I have to do them every time because if I don’t, they ask for them, It’s their favorite, says Martha, her mom, who’s the creator of this mouthwatering version of rajas tamales. Family and food, are the two strongest values in Sandra’s Mexican side of her identity.
Sandra and I have been friends for more than 20 years, she was born and raised in San Bruno, California, but her parents are Mexican and through them, she has always kept a strong bond with México. When she was little, she loved going to San Miguel Allende with her family; her late father, a professional horse jockey, was from the state of Guanajuato (where the colonial city is located), and her mother is from Los Altos de Jalisco. During her high school and college years, though, Sandra kind of kept her Mexican identity shaded, because she felt that some people regarded it as a bad thing: it was until I started to work in the corporate world, that realized that my identity was actually one of my biggest strengths and that by setting an example I could empower other women like me.
Sandra is a VP for Intel Sports, she is a co-chair of the World Economic Forum’s Global Future Council, and has received many recognitions: “Most Powerful Women in Tech” (National Diversity Council), “Top 10 Latina Executives” (Latina Style), “Most Influential Hispanic Professionals in Information Technology” (HighTec), among others. She is the mom of Raquel (who adores Mexican food) and they both live in San Francisco, CA.
Ingredients:
½ k of corn masa
1 cup (or more) of chicken or vegetable broth
¼ cup lard or vegetable shortening
Corn husks or plantain leaves
3-4 poblano chiles
½ k of tomatillos
2-3 serrano chiles (you can take the seed them to make less spicy)
1/2 onion
1 clove of garlic
250 g monterrey, jack, chihuahua, or any cheese that melts
Vegetable oil
Salt to taste
Cut the plantain leaves into rectangles as big enough as to be able to fold them like an envelope, heat them on a comal or pan until they turn kind of translucent. Set them apart.
Clean the chiles: toast them and sweat them inside of a plastic bag.
Peel the chiles, take the tops, the seeds, and the veins out, and then cut them into thin slices.
Cook the tomatillos and the serranos (you can either toast them or boil them) and then blend them with the cilantro and the clove of garlic.
Cook the sauce with a bit of vegetable oil and add the rajas.
Set aside and let cool.
Mix the masa with some vegetable shortening or lard, add water or stock until it becomes a spreadable dough, and season with salt to taste.
Spread the dough on the leaves, add the rajas and a slice of cheese, and fold in rectangles. *be sure to leave some salsa to serve the tamales.
Cook the tamales on a steamer, put as much water as possible so it doesn’t evaporate completely, or add more water along the way (tip: put some coins in the bottom pot so you can tell when it runs out of water.
Before serving, heat the remaining salsa verde, add more cheese and serve to top the tamales.
PICADILLO STUFFING
4 to 5 people
Picadillo is a dish that has a malleable quality, it is adaptable, negotiable, and interchangeable, but somehow, no matter how much one pushes its borders, it never ceases to be “picadillo”. It is a universally Latin and Philipino dish, which happens to be the cultural background of Monica Gallardo’s husband, Ed, and of her beautiful daughters too, Lucía and Gabriela.
This recipe for Thanksgiving picadillo is Mónica’s mother recipe, María. She and I met through her and my mother when we were teenagers; it was one of those rare friend match-makes arranged by mothers that turn into lifetime friendships (we even backpacked through Europe years later). María, a social worker from Ocotlán, Jalisco (same as Mónica’s father), was very active within the Mexican community of San Francisco and was President of the Comité Cívico Patriótico Mexicano back then, that’s how she met my mother. Mónica’s home was always like a small piece of Mexico to me, we used to sit at their kitchen table, and talk with María about food for hours.
Monica now lives with her family in Daly City, has a Masters in International Relations from Georgetown University, and works as a trade manager for Silicon Valley-based companies.
Ingredients:
1 k of grounded meat (use any kind of meat you like)
¾ cup of raisins
¾ cup of shredded almonds
¾ cup of olives
½ an onion, chopped
1 clove of garlic, chopped
Vegetable oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Sautée the onion and garlic until translucent.
Add the meat and then the olives, almonds, and raisins when it’s cooked.
Season with salt and pepper to taste.
MIDWESTERN JELLO SALAD
1 regular gelatin mold or pyrex
Linda Campos is my favorite food photographer, we met while I was working at Pujol restaurant in Mexico City and she was doing a photographic tour through Mexico. We instantly became friends and have kept in touch ever since. She lives and works in Boston, MA. During quarantine, we made zoom meetings and cooked together (mostly pasta, we got kind of obsessed with Pasta Grannies videos).
When I called Linda and ask her if she could share a thanksgiving recipe with me, she kind of struggled with the decision, even though Thanksgiving was a very important holiday for her family, the food wasn’t always very “traditional”, as she described: my mother was never a big home cook, so we used to buy tamales from a local restaurant, got some generic butterball turkey, Stovetop stuffing from the box that my mother would add to fresh celery, carrots, and onions, pumpkin pie from a can, and potato puree made from flakes, she also always made spaghetti, we never understood why but thought it was funny. She remembered about a dish that her mother made, though, that was strange but, at the same time, probably the most iconic: it was a weird gelatin dish, she said and called her mother to get the recipe. Turns out, that “jello” or “molded salads” are actually very traditional in the midwest and used to be “a thing” during the seventies. I think I can see why, and even wonder why they haven’t had a come back: they’re good-looking, interesting, tasty, and adventurous. They’re kind of an open-minded, risk-taking dish.
Ingredients:
1-2 shredded carrots
1 can of crushed pineapple
1 cup of cream
1 cup of water + ½ cup
1 package (or 3 ounces) of plain gelatin powder
½ a package of cream cheese *The original recipe uses cubed cheddar cheese. I used cream cheese to be able to mix it with the cream and separate the jello into two colors, but you can do as you wish (actually in terms of flavor, cheddar sounds more interesting)
¼ cup of sugar + 2 tsp
A pinch of salt
Strain the pineapple and save the juice.
Heat the cup of water and add the gelatine to dissolve.
Put the carrot and pineapple pieces at the bottom of the mold.
Add ¾ cup of the dissolved gelatin to the pineapple juice and the remaining water, and cover the carrot and the pineapple slices.
Put in the refrigerator for 10 minutes or until it is firm but not completely solid.
Meanwhile, mix the cheese and the cream with the blender and add the rest of the dissolved gelatin.
Take out the mold, add the cheese-cream mix, and put back into the refrigerator until it is firm.
It is served as a side dish, not as a dessert.
PIE DOUGH
2 regular size (9-inch) crusts or 1 double-crust.
Ingredients:
500 g of all-purpose flour
250 g of butter, cut into cubes and chilled
4 tbsp of sugar
1 tsp of salt
4 yolks
3-6 tbsp of ice-cold water
Mix all of the dry ingredients together.
Add the butter and mix with your hands until you have crumbs the size of peas. *Don’t let the butter melt, you have to see the pieces.
Add the yolks and then the water, one tablespoon at a time because you might not need it all, just enough for the dough to still seem a bit dry but can hold together.
Wrap in plastic without kneading it too much, form into a disc, and let chill in the fridge for 30 minutes. You can keep it in the refrigerator for 2 or 3 days or in the freezer for up to 3 months.
APPLE PIE
Ingredients:
2 portions of pie dough
3 to 4 apples depending on size *Use any kind of apple you like, the tangier, the better
2 tsp of lemon juice
¾ cup of brown sugar
½ tsp of salt
1 tsp of cinnamon
½ tsp of nutmeg
1 tbsp of all-purpose flour
2 tbsp of butter into cubes
1 egg for coating
Roll the dough to fit your mold. Leave 1 cm of dough around (so you can fold it after with the top crust) and cut the excess with some scissors. Refrigerate until you use it.
Pre-heat the oven at 200ºC (375ºF)
Do the same with the top. *you can put it in some parchment paper to refrigerate.
Cut the apples into slices. Add the sugar, the flour, the lemon juice, the salt, the spices, and toss.
Arrange the slices of apple into the mold.
Cover with the top with the dough and fold the edges, you can shape with your fingers or use a fork to press them down.
Coat with the egg wash, make some vents with a knife for the steam to escape and sprinkle some sugar on top.
Cook for 25 to 45 minutes or until the surface is golden.
PECAN PIE
Ingredients:
1 portion of pie dough
2/3 c of sugar
½ c of water
1 cup of corn syrup (I used pilloncillo syrup that I had on hand, and it worked perfect)
2 tbsp of melted butter
3 eggs
1 tsp of lemon juice
1 tsp of vanilla extract
¼ tsp of salt
250 g of pecan halves
Pre-heat the oven at 200ºC (400ºF).
Roll the dough to fit the mold.
Cut the edges by rolling your pin over the mold.
Arrange the pecan halves.
Mix the rest of the ingredients vigorously, and add the mix into the bowl.
Bake for 40 to an hour or until the filling is set.
A blast from the past… Mónica, Sandra, María (María Teresa Kumar, another very successful Colombian-American Latina, who I just found out turned into political rights activist and is now President and CEO of the Latino political organization, Voto Latino), and me at a classic San Francisco Giants-Oakland Athletics match at the now Candlestick Park…
Muy bien Renata. La verdad es que si he tenido experiencia de snobbery en cuanto a encuentros con mexicanos de algún nivel social de privilegio cuando se enteran que soy de padres inmigrantes de Jalisco y nacida en EE.UU.
Por cierto - muy buen artículo! Haremos los tamales de Sandra para nuestra noche buena. Se ven deliciosos!!