Mofongo

by Cecilia Samartin

  When her house came into view, Sebastian immediately noticed that things had continued to evolve since his last visit. The porch had been cleared of all the boxes and papers that had littered it for the past several days, and the metal folding chairs had been replaced by two wicker chairs with floral cushions. There was a small wicker table between them with the requisite candle, although it was still unlit.

  “I see your grandmother has been making some improvements,” Dean observed as they climbed the porch steps, but when they entered the house, their mouths fell open as they beheld the greatest improvement of them all. The small kitchen table that could accommodate no more than four people, had been replaced by a new table, and this one was massive, taking up the area near the kitchen and most of the living room as well. The sofa had been relegated to the far corner of the room to make space for it, and the twelve elegant high back chairs that surrounded it. Several of the chairs were already occupied. Mando, Susan and Cindy were there, as was Gabi who sat next to Terrence. Charlie Jones was there too and he promptly flashed his big white smile when he saw that two more guests had arrived.

  Hard at work at the kitchen counter, Lola looked up when she heard the door open. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here Dean,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “We were just getting started, but where are Gloria and Jennifer? Still in the car?”

  Dean was so taken aback that he didn’t reply. Sebastian pulled his father into the room and said, “They’re not coming, Abuela.”

  “Is your mother still mad at me? That girl doesn’t know how to let things go. Never has. And what about Jennifer?”

  At this, Dean cleared his throat and said, “I believe that Jennifer feels she should be with her mother right now…to support her… and all…” Had he been completely forthright he would’ve added that it was just as well because the instant Gloria’s eyes landed on Susan, she’d turn on her heels and leave.

  “I see,” Lola said, propping her hands on her hips. “Jennifer blames you for all the problems in the marriage does she?”

  Dean’s face colored deeply. “I…well…I really don’t know.”

  “Ma why do you say things like that?” Gabi asked. “It only makes people uncomfortable.”

  “Perhaps it does, but if I beat around the bush at my age, I might as well dig a hole under it and throw myself in.”

  Terrence started to laugh and his great booming laughter filled the room, chasing away the awkward tension that was starting to build up. “Your mother has a point,” he said, still chuckling.

  “I guess she does,” Gabi replied, somewhat in awe. The only other man she’d ever known who could clear the air with his laughter and leave nothing but joy in its wake, was her Pops.

  Mando stood up and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat Dean. Whatever’s going on between you and Gloria, we’re glad you could make it today.”

  “Thank you,” Dean muttered as Sebastian went directly to his step stool to see what his grandmother was up to. She had a good sized mortar and pestle on the counter, and she was slicing some odd looking bananas into half inch rounds. In another pan, there was a chunky tomato mixture boiling away and on the counter beyond, a platter piled high with glistening raw shrimp.

  “Tell me about mofongo,” Sebastian said.

  Lola smiled appreciatively. “I will tell you everything you’d like to know, and let me start by saying that this is the one dish that brings together the flavors and history of the island better than any other. If you want to taste the heart and the soul of your roots, Sebastian, it is mofongo.”

  “I’m afraid that Ma’s recently developed quite a flair for the dramatic,” Gabi said to Terrence, as she lightly touched his arm.

  “Do you doubt it?” Lola asked.

  “No, I’m just saying that it might be a slight exaggeration Ma, that’s all.”

  Lola banged her pestle on the counter. “A slight exaggeration?”

  Mando gave his sister a severe look. “Actually,” he said. “I’ve always felt the same way about mofongo.”

  “Yes, me too,” Susan said with an uneasy smile. “I’ve always thought it to be the most delicious.”

  Annoyed by their patronizing manner, Lola hastily made her way around the counter, and stood at the head of the table looking down her nose at Mando and Susan. “I suppose that because I’m old, you think I’m stupid too, is that it?”

  “Ma come on, don’t get all upset again,” Mando said. .

  Cindy added tearfully, “It really scares me when you get all mad like you did at the hospital.”

  Lola addressed Cindy next, her voice stern. “Sometimes people get mad Cindy. Just because you were blessed with a pretty face, and a nice family that doesn’t mean you should be spared a good dose of reality every now and then.”

  Cindy stared at her grandmother in disbelief, while Susan whispered something to her husband who nodded his agreement. He pushed himself back from the table and started to rise from his chair. “We’re going to get going now, Ma. It’s obvious that we’re upsetting you, and we certainly don’t want…”

  “You sit your culo back down on that chair,” Lola said, pointing her mucky banana finger at her son. “I’m going to say what I need to say, and if you still want to go after I’m finished, you can go. Fair enough?”

  Mando lowered himself back down to his chair and nodded for Susan to do the same.

  Lola leaned forward against the table, appearing larger than life. “I’m sure you remember your great grandfather, don’t you Mando? With his light eyes and honey colored hair, you’d think he was fresh off the boat from Europe, but he wasn’t. It’s true that he had German descendants, but his mother was the daughter of a black slave,” she added, nodding pointedly to Cindy after she said it. “By that time Spain had already lost most of its republics in the Caribbean, and the Spaniards thought the reason was because there was too much intermarrying going on. The Spanish people were getting together with the Indians and when the Africans came along they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other, so to whiten things up a bit, Spain issued a Royal Decree encouraging Europeans from other countries to go to Puerto Rico too. They came from Germany, and Italy and France, and many other countries as well, and they too intermarried, and had loads of children. In a few years, they were all as native as the Kapok tree.”

  Lola sauntered back to the counter where she had her ingredients set out. She picked up the mortar and held it up for everyone to see. “We have the Indigenous Taino people to thank for the pilon, a clever invention which no Criollo kitchen is without.” She pointed to the garlic and olive oil next. “A gift from our Spanish forefathers,” she said. And lastly she took up the strange looking banana she’d been slicing. “And our African ancestors taught us how to cook with plantains, and how to fry our food instead of boiling all the flavor out of it as the Europeans were doing back then. When you put it all together, you have mofongo – a culinary assimilation, an irresistible alchemy of flavors and culture that not even the power of the Spanish Crown could overcome. It is Criollo, and when I eat mofongo, the African, Taino and European blood in my veins rejoices.”

  When Lola was finished, she wiped her hands on her apron and sat down next to Charlie at the table.

  “Wow, Ma,” Gabi said. “I never heard you talk like that before.”

  “This mofongo stuff must be pretty good,” Terrence said.

  “If it’s anything like I remember, you won’t be disappointed,” Dean replied. “It’s always been my favorite.”

  “Mine too,” Susan said. “Mofongo is my absolute favorite.”

  Lola stiffened when she heard this, and then she leaned over to Charlie and whispered something in his ear. Charlie smiled, while glancing over at Susan.

  “What’s the matter?” Susan asked. “Didn’t I pronounce it correctly?”

  “Oh, you pronounced it perfectly,” Lola said, trying to suppress a smile. But then Charlie started to chuckle which prompted her to nudge his s
houlder. “Don’t you start or else you’ll get me going, and I won’t be able to stop.”

  “Ma, you’re being extremely rude,” Mando said. “When we were kids you’d scold us for whispering at the table, and now look at you.”

  Lola immediately composed herself “You’re absolutely right, and I insisted that whatever was whispered had to be shared with everyone. So go ahead Charlie, tell them what I said.”

  “Are you sure?” Charlie asked, looking somewhat horrified.

  “Absolutely, there shouldn’t be secrets amongst family and friends.”

  “Yes, but sometimes it’s better to…”

  “Charlie please,” Lola said.

  Charlie shrugged, and then turned to address Susan directly. “Lola said that she doesn’t know why you say mofongo is your favorite when she overheard you telling Mando once that it looked like regurgitated dog food, and that it will never pass your lips.”

  Susan blanched and Mando’s face colored profusely. “Ma, what in the world…?”

  “But it was your response to her that bothered me most,” Lola said, looking directly at her son.

  Mando shook his head, and tried to laugh it off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Ma, I really don’t.”

  Lola leaned toward her son. “You laughed just like you did now, and then you told Susan that it was hilly billy food anyway, and that she really wasn’t missing much.”

  “She isn’t,” he returned defensively. “It’s just plantains mashed up with a bit of garlic and bacon. Not exactly five star fare, if you ask me.”

  Hearing this, Lola leaned across the table toward him. “Whether you like it or not, mofongo runs through your veins, and through your daughter’s veins. Just think about what that means, Mando. Think about it.”

  “That’s enough Ma,” Mando said while rising from his chair, and slapping his napkin down on his empty plate. “Now I know what Gloria meant when she said you were insulting and hurtful.” He grabbed his jacket, and handed Susan her purse. Cindy slowly rose from her chair as well, looking shell shocked, and on the verge of tears.

  Susan followed Mando to the door, but midway across the room she turned around, head high, and eyes bright with tears. “If you’re implying that Mando and I are ashamed of his background, you’re dead wrong. We embrace diversity, and we’ve always taught Cindy to do the same.”

  Lola stared straight ahead, her face set in stone.

  “Are we really going?” Cindy asked.

  “Yes, we are,” Mando replied.

  Cindy started to follow them, but then she dropped down in Lola’s rocker, and covered her face with her hands. Susan ran to her side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Please honey, I know how upsetting it is for you when people get angry, but we’ll come back in a few days when your grandmother’s feeling better. How about we go get sushi on the way home?”

  Cindy looked up at her mother with accusing eyes, “What upsets me most is when people lie to me.”

  Susan’s hand fell away from her daughter’s shoulder and she took a step back.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Cindy asked. “Why didn’t you tell me that some of our relatives were black?”

  “I’m sure we told you,” Mando replied.

  “Of course we did,” Susan said.

  Cindy shook her head resolutely. “You didn’t tell me. If you had, I would’ve remembered.”

  Sebastian had heard the story of his German and black descendents so many times, that he was shocked Cindy didn’t know about it. He’d always considered it to be his family’s very own personal Adam and Eve story. As Cindy waited for a reply from her parents, everyone looked rather shame faced, and unsure of where to rest their eyes. When Gloria glanced at Terrence, he smiled in a way that let her know he was fine. Mando, who was still standing by the door, appeared to be feeling the most awkward of all.

  Meanwhile, Lola had risen from her chair and was at the stove frying the plantains she had already sliced in hot oil. All that could be heard was the sizzle and pop of the oil as the plantains cooked. When they were just beginning to turn golden, she removed them from the pan and began working the plantains, garlic, and coarsely chopped bacon into a mash with the pilon, adding a pinch of salt and occasional dribbles of olive oil as needed to get just the right consistency. She grunted as she mashed the ingredients together and soon a wonderful aroma filled the room. It was tangy and sweet and enticing enough to distract from the awkwardness of the moment.

  “These old joints aren’t what they used to be, and if we’re all going to eat, then everyone’s going to have to take a turn. Susan, would you like to be the first?” Lola asked, breaking the silence.

  Susan remained where she was for a long moment lost in thought. Her purse strap slipped from her shoulder to the crook of her arm as she appraised her daughter who had turned away from her. Then she tossed her purse onto the sofa and went to join Lola at the counter, and was immediately handed the pilon and given precise instructions regarding what to combine and in what proportions. After Susan had mashed together the plantains, garlic, oil and bacon for several minutes, she and Lola formed the gooey mixture into egg sized balls, and measured out the ingredients to make more. The mofongo would be served with camarones enchilados, Spicy shrimp. After the shrimp had been sautéed in olive oil until just pink, Lola removed them from the pan and added onions, garlic, peppers, tomato sauce and more olive oil. She sprinkled the mixture with salt, pepper and added a couple of bay leaves to the pan as she stirred, and in no time she had a creamy rich tomato sauce that was mildly spicy, and the perfect accompaniment for the shrimp.

  “Can I go next?” Cindy asked, wiping her eyes.

  “Everyone will get a turn,” Lola replied, happy to see that Mando had taken his place at the table again. After handing Cindy the pestle, she returned to the table and whispered something in Sebastian’s ear this time.

  “Don’t forget the rules,” Gabi said to her nephew. “Now you have to tell us what she said.”

  “Abuela Lola said that this will be the best Mofongo we ever made,” Sebastian replied, and this pronouncement brought a wave of good cheer that lingered for the remainder of the afternoon.

  Gloria and Jennifer listened as Sebastian told them everything that had happened at Abuela Lola’s house. The mofongo she sent home with him was on the kitchen table, and although it had been meticulously wrapped in several layers of cellophane the tangy sweet aroma of garlic and plantains was thick in the air. Sebastian took charge of reheating of Camarones enchilados. As instructed by his grandmother, he removed the cooked shrimp from the pan on the stove so they wouldn’t get rubbery and turned up the heat on the tomato sauce. Only after the sauce had been heated through did he return the shrimp to the pan.

  Gloria, who was still in her dressing gown, crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Sebastian, not quite believing everything she heard. “So Susan helped make the mofongo? She actually got her hands dirty?”

  “And she ate some too,” Sebastian added. “I think she liked it.”

  Jennifer began to unwrap the package of mofongo on the table. “I can’t believe Cindy never heard about Otto and Rubina. On second thought,” she said. “I take it back. It makes perfect sense.”

  “Cindy begged Abuela Lola to tell her about them,” Sebastian said. “So Abuela told her the story while we ate.”

  “What did Susan do?” Gloria asked, gazing hungrily at the Mofongo that had finally been liberated from the cellophane. “Did she try to get Cindy out of there before she learned the truth about her ancestry?”

  “No, she stayed and listened like everybody else,” Sebastian replied. “And even though I’ve heard the story a million times, hearing Abuela tell it again was like hearing it for the first time.”

  Jennifer placed the mofongo balls on a plate. “Should I stick these in the microwave?” She asked her brother.

  “No more than twenty seconds,” he returned. “And cover them with a moist pa
per towel so they don’t dry out.”

  “Go ahead Sebastian,” Gloria said, “tell us the story. I’m curious to see if it’s changed as much as everything else has.”

  And as the kitchen became infused with the delectable fragrance of mofongo, Sebastian recounted his grandmother’s’ story exactly as he remembered it.

  When your Great Great Grandfather Otto left Germany about a hundred and fifty years ago, he left behind the girl he intended to marry. Helga was a sweet and pretty girl who any man would’ve been happy to take for a wife, but Otto was poor, and in those days honorable men didn’t think about getting married unless they could support a wife and family. When Otto heard that there were opportunities in the New World, he decided to make the long journey to Puerto Rico. Once he’d saved enough money, he would return home and marry Helga.

  Otto had never been outside of Germany before in his life, and when he encountered the warm breeze of the tropics, and the lush green beauty of the island, he was certain that he had discovered his destiny. He immediately wrote to Helga telling her that he would send for her instead, as he had no doubt that she would love it too.

  Once Otto got settled, he started a coffee export business, and things went very well for him. He was a hard worker, and his business grew. Although he was very busy, he couldn’t help but notice the beautiful Puerto Rican women, as varied and colorful as the glistening shells that washed up on the beach. But tempted as he was, Otto resisted them. He’d made a promise to Helga, and he intended to keep it.

  After three years of hard work building his business, Otto had finally saved up enough money to marry and support Helga in the manner that he felt she deserved. He had just made arrangements in town to send for her, and was on his way home, when his horse became spooked and threw him to the ground. Then it promptly galloped back for the stable, leaving Otto lying on the side of the road with a broken leg. Unfortunately, this road was rarely traveled and he knew that it would be some time before anyone found him, and that perhaps he would even die there because he hadn’t brought any food or water with him.