Lapses and resolutions

It’s been quiet here since the Abuelitos’ Boonie Visa expired. Too quiet sometimes.

While Maria got a lot of good, loud attention during their visit and mucho español with the viejos, she held firm to her ingles. She continues to repeat what you ask her to and she will from time to time say something spontaneous in Spanish, she really is focused on English. Cabesidura que es. But, given that my cubanasa mom lapsed into English regularly - and was spanked for it -- it is proof it is easier said than done to speak exclusively in one language.

But, everyday is a new day and with the time of dreaded resolutions upon us, I have resolved to post a big ass sign in the kitchen with “Español, coño!’’ in big, bold letters. I’ll take it down by the time Maria learns to read.

Gordita Smiles; Melts Hearts

Testing out the Power of Flickr and what better way to do it than showing off this sweet nena in a Tia Tee?

Lost in the Translation

The Scene: Picky pre-schooler snubbing the perfectly good Christmas chili.

Abuelita to Maria: "Oye, metele mano a la comida.''
Maria to Abuelita: "Hey, we don't put hands in our food!''

Feliz Navidad, amigos

We of the Sad But Tasty Holiday Cookie Club wish you all a Happy and Feliz Noche Buena y Mery Crisma.

"No Papi, no tienes que traer nada....''

I explained here recently how I suspected my Tennessee kitchen would soon look like a Sedano's. Finally uploaded evidence of my mind-reading. And God and country love Papi for never listening to me. (The pastelitos are all gone.)

Entiende?

The Abuelitos’ Language Assessment: “Todo en ingles esta hablando esta niña.’’

Aye madre. We get the same assessment every time. We say the same thing in our defense every time: Yes, she speaks to you in English most of the time, but she understands everything in Spanish. You’ll see. Just keep speaking to her in Spanish.

Next thing I know, the die-hards are speaking English to the 3-year-old. A lot.

“Oye, te oigo,’’ I called from the other room at one point. “Hablale en español.’’

The slip ups happen, my parents later confessed, because they worry Maria doesn’t understand them.

And so, it wasn’t until my mom asked Maria if she knew where her “nalgas’’ are - and Maria promptly showed her - that my mom looked at me and said: “Si entiende.’’

More than you know.

Waiting for the Peanut Vendor

Within approximately 19 minutes of my parents’ arrival in the Boonies there was lengthy discussion about the dictator who joins each and every one of our family gatherings.

According to my mother -- who keeps close track of the guy via discussion on radio, TV and Sunday afternoon family gatherings en el exilio - the dictator is about to kick it.

“Va a guindar el piojo,’’ she said.

To which my husband said: “What?’’

You know, his louse is going to hang.

Oh and yes, “va a cantar el manisero’’ - another term for kick it that translates to “the peanut vendor is going to sing.’’

To which my husband said: “What?’’

And when it finally happens, it will be said that “canto el gallo’’ or “the rooster sung.”

To which my husband said: “What?’’

Aye.

Does bilingualism make one smarter?

There is an increasing body of evidence that bilingualism makes one smarter.
There also is increasing evidence that it can make you completamente loco/a - this based on a non-scientific study currently being conducted on Cuban subjects in a tiny little county in Tennessee.
Full results are expected shortly. But, here is a preliminary clue:

Food on the brain: The recipe for Port Wine Guava Glaze

(This post edited Dec. 17 to add an ingredient -- the 8 ounces of guava paste. Sorry. Everyone needs an editor.)

Bon Appetit magazine had a special section about 6 years ago illustrating some holiday recipes from around the world. It included Chef Andrew DiCataldo’s recipe for a turkey basted with Port Wine Guava Glaze.

I made it that year. I think it was 2000. Out of my oven came the most glorious bird you’ve ever seen. That sweet and aromatic glaze gave me fama among the guests.

Then I lost the recipe and made myself crazy looking for it before a foodie friend found the issue and copied it for me.

I will never lose it again.

Port Wine Guava Glaze

2 cups Port (and a little for yourself!)
1 cup red wine vinegar
1 can (8 ounces) guava marmalade or frozen guava puree
8 ounces guava paste
4 star anise
1 cinnamon stick
5 cloves
8 bay leaves
20 black peppercorns
3 thyme sprigs

Place all ingredients, except thyme, in a sauce pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring gently to help dissolve the guava paste. Cook glaze on low heat until thickened, approximately 20 minutes. Remove from heat and add thyme, and let stand for 15 minutes to cool and further infuse flavor. Strain.
Divide glaze in half, and set aside one half for the serving table.

Mix the first half with:
6 tablespoons melted butter
¼ cup of dry white wine
Salt and pepper to taste

The turkey recipe calls for rubbing the turkey thoroughly, inside and out, with lemon and then basting with the guava/butter gift from the gods.

Baste frequently.
If the bird begins to brown too quickly, cover it with buttered foil.

At our house we’ll be serving our guavalicious bird with a pumpkin flan with gingersnap crust from Douglas Rodriquez’s book Nuevo Latino. And a little more port for me. (The Miami and Jersey Cubans will be in town, remember?)

All I want for Christmas: Pastelitos

The communal kitchenette in my Southern Illinois college dorm was down the hallway and very public. I learned quickly to keep my black bean habit to myself as the girls would poke their heads in, crinkle their pert noses and ask me things like whether I was cooking bugs, what country I was from, and how I could eat things of that color.
I am not sharing this to paint people from Illinois as small-minded because back then, living in the florescent glow of the mid-80s and intoxicated by lacquer hairspray, I shamefully crinkled my long nose at the couscous and curry of my international student friends. Boba.
The story is shared more to illustrate that the shipping and sending of Cuban foods is a two decade tradition. My parents generously have shipped me food since I left home and ventured to these places forsaken of dulce de leche and guava paste.
When I moved to Tennessee, a tiny community of Cubans eventually found me (like attracts like, no?) and pointed me toward the international market where I could score plantains, black beans and Bustelo.
Each time my parents prepare to drive here (they don’t fly), they call to ask what I want. In years past, there usually was something I was craving, but could not find. Eventually, the list has gotten shorter. The fabulous little market expanded its Latin foods as the community here has grown and then in 2003 the most glorious of all things happened: Publix opened not too far from my Boonie house. I was pregnant then and despite swollen feet, I would stand in front of the frozen Goya foods section, complete with cut-up yuca and mamey pulp, and grin como una loca. I just loved looking. I have a love of Publix that goes very deep. My husband believes me to be ill.
But anyway, my parents will be here in a few days and I am sure my father already is packing up the car. The call will come any minute. “Que quieres? Café? Yuca? Guayaba? Platanitos? Mojo?’’ Our kitchen will look like a Sedano’s.
Truth is, I can get most anything Cuban in a can or package. My requests now are for pastelitos and Cuban bread. (The Publix baker sheepishly confessed he doesn’t make traditional Cuban bread because the Americans didn’t like it. He sticks French bread in the paper sleeves labeled “Cuban Bread.” Personally, I think that’s a crime and one day I will send my mom in there to wag a finger at him.)
So in a matter of days, my box of pasteles and my soft, lardy bread will be here. I will eat as many as I can and then swipe my husband’s if I can. And, as usual, I will begin my year hoping some Cuban from Miami moves here and opens a real bakery…(know anybody?)...and of course, thanking my parents for two decades of transporting the goods across state lines.

Query to the Cubans: How do you spell refunfuñosa?

Como va?

Refunfunllosa?
Refunfunyosa?
Refunfullosa?
Refunfuyosa?
Refufuyosa?

Am I missing an "n'' as in renfufuñosa?

The beloved Google, it let me down. Found nada.

And how does this word translate exactly? I take it to mean “cranky’’ and “difficult’’ and even “complainer.’’

This is a good word for the parent of a 3-year-old to know, though it sure ain’t proper español. And of course, like so many of these crazy colloquialisms it unharnessed itself from some dormant place in my brain today. We were having one of those 3-year-old meets tired Mami moments. You know.

Ayudame, por favor.

I may even slap it on a T-shirt one day.

Yee Haw means "Te Quiero" in Spanish

The times, they truly are a-changing, amigos.

Doing the dreaded Christmas shopping today, stumbled upon these letterpress cards in Spanish. They’re made by a Knoxville, Tennessee company named Yee Haw Industries.

When I saw them I gasped and turned to look for someone, anyone, who could feel my joy and my surprise. Nadie. Sure, it was in a fabulous and popular Mexican import store, but seriously, cards that say “Te Quiero,’’ “Gracias,’’ “Besos’’ and “Feliz Navidad’’ by a company named Yee Haw in Knoxville, Tennessee?

I love life.

"You ain't from 'round here, are ya?''

I walked into a fancy bakery.

The woman told me she loved my "unusual'' accent.

"Where are you from?''

"Miami.''

"Still nice.''

From one kind of Media Whore to another kind of Media Whore or “How to get press for your business.’’

If one looks at the press page over at Los Pollitos, one finds a whole lot of articles in impressive publications. Given the portfolio, I get e-mails, and some calls, from other small business owners who want press and are trying to figure out how to get it.
How have we gotten so much press? Well, a lot of trees were killed sending out releases and the bigger reason: I am a media whore.
I called everyone I have ever known in the business and I also asked media friends to call their friends and so, voila.
In this last year, I have found new respect for people who do public relations. It is not easy and mi gente in newsrooms are not always the friendliest to deal with - that’s if they even pick up their phones. Plah on voicemail.
But, you don’t need to know a reporter personally to get a newspaper or magazine to write about you. I can’t tell you how many great stories I landed when I was a daily newspaper reporter just because somebody picked up the phone and, in 25 words or less, said: “Hey, let me tell you about this so-and-so.’’
So given the questions - and the requests for help writing press releases -- I figured I would share a few tips and tricks. These are nothing that will win me a position as a media and public relations expert but what the hey, they’re free:

• Press releases are important, but not totally necessary. A simple telephone call, or a quick e-mail, with some basic information might be all you need to hook a reporter.
• If you do write a release, keep it short. Try no more than a page to a page-and-a-half. Keep it simple: Who, What, When, Where, Why.
  
• Don’t call at 10 a.m. and don’t call at 4 p.m. Reporters haven’t had enough coffee at 10 and they’re cranky and on deadline by 4, or they're headed for Happy Hour.
• If you call, ask if “now is a good time.’’ Muy importante.
• If you e-mail, try “suggested story idea’’ in the subject line. (“I think you are the best writer ever!’’ can work well too.)
• Don’t tell anyone you are “the first,” “the best,” “the only.” Reporters will hang up on you or make paper airplanes out of your release.
• Did you see an article about a product or service similar to yours? Check out the byline. Call or write that person and tell them about fabulous you.
• Read the publication you are pitching. Tell the person you are talking to that you saw the article about blah-blah that he or she wrote. Google the writer, know what kinds of stories she writes. Don't pitch lawn ornament trends to the guy who writes about hot tech.
  
• Are you shy? Can’t sell yourself? Have your boldest and most direct and polite friend call for you.
• Want to hire a public relations firm? Budget $1,500 to $5,000 and more a month. (Cost of doing it yourself: Minor anxiety).
  
• Does your product have a seasonal angle? For example, the Pollitos are a big hit in the Spring, the whole chick/Easter link. Media looks for timeliness. Be warned: Fewer and fewer papers care about the “National Whatever Month’’ angle.
• Called or wrote and heard nada back? Try again in a week or two. A simple “just checking in’’ will work. It could be your information got swallowed by the gigantic pile of caca on a desk, or got a Starbucks latte spilled on it. (Check out my trashed out, dusty desk, above, on my last day of work. Note free donut.)
• Checked in and still nothing? Maybe it’s time to move on, or you could be labeled an annoying media whore. (Who, me?)
• Doesn’t work too well to call The Editor or section editor directly. Those poor people are busy, busy. Best to contact them via a packet or e-mail that can be passed on to the right reporter or assistant editor.
• “Three is a trend’’ - common thinking in newsrooms. Do you know of other people doing the same thing, or close to the same thing as you? Tell the reporter what you know. Don’t be greedy and you’ll have a better chance of getting a hit.
• Don’t disregard the small weekly community paper. Press is press.
• Save your money and don’t send samples of your product unless you’re asked and most papers won’t ask unless they’re actually doing a story. Magazines are a different story and most large magazines will send your product back. (I personally don’t send samples to shopping blogs, but that’s just me. Your choice there.)
• If you’ve written and called and not heard back, but you still really believe the local paper is missing out on you, then send food. Reporters love free food. (See donut above). It could be month-old wheat wafers, but by gosh, it’s still free and free food is the way into many a scribe’s notebook. That, and a free round at Happy Hour.
  

(Check out the links section soon, as I'll be adding links to helpful media and public relations sites to the Boonie blog)

Silent morning

The husband and daughter are sleeping in and I am at the kitchen table with coffee and laptop. I am not alone though. Outside the windows are bluebirds, goldfinches, nuthatches, Carolina wrens, woodpeckers and others I do not recognize. The birds are gorging at the feeders and on berries and suet, getting ready for the cruel chill of winter.
These crisp late Fall mornings in Tennessee are beautiful and delicious. I love these birds and the warm spot from which I watch them.
When we first moved to the woods I spent hours on the front porch with a set of binoculars and a bird guide book. I slept on the porch swing, lulled by the chirping and tweeting. I dreamt of this child we would raise in nature and I was determined to identify more than just pigeons and crows for her.
And while I bask in these quiet moments that make me love our homeplace even more, they also make me nostalgic and homesick.
My parents and brother are traveling to Tennessee for the holidays, so we will have no outdoor Noche Buena, no afternoon walks on Miami Beach and no evening mojitos on the patio. No tribe of cousins and no tios and tias.
My heart is heavy Maria won’t experience the kinds of holidays I did. But those are my memories to pine for, not hers. Today we are making memories for her here, and occasionally in Miami.
Maybe she will sit at her own kitchen table some morning in her future and remember the birds that perched on her trees on cold December mornings. And maybe she will feel warm, happy and a little nostalgic.