It was early on Saturday morning and I was ready to go out and see some blue. However, my plans includes more than recharging my batteries. Before my soul became untamed like the waves, I was cooking for a particular group of people.
I have shared the stories of my childhood afternoons at grandma's. It was either a hot chocolate day or a coffee with milk day. There was always bread. For me, my grandma's cooking was the perfect language of love.
As I grew up, I learnt to cook by my own hand. Neither mom nor grandma had any semblance of wanting to teach. For them, cooking is a kind of slavery. I'd like to understand, I have never cooked without wanting to do it. We have different backgrounds. I try to understand not to judge.
But I took it as personal trademark to cook for those I like and love. Last Saturday, that was the case. I got up early to make hot chocolate for s gathering. It was quite the event. A lot of people involved in the business of storytelling and children's literature. I could not arrive empty handed. Even more when I was the youngest among the group.
A pot of chocolate became the tuppers above (they are not tuppers but anything around here becomes a tupper when it is empty). I went ahead and added a touch of grounded cloves for extra flavor.
It was funny how I got a little scolding form the owner of the apartment for bringing such a treat. Making chocolate isn't the cheapest thing. But it is great to share some of my cooling with others. Especially with this amazing ladies who have had enough experience with beverages to tell me if I'm doing ok or not.
And our reunion included more food. There were toasts and hummus and pickled zucchini and juice and soda. And with the addition of chocolate, we sat down after a round of reading and talking about children's books. It had been a long time since I last felt like those old days when I sat down near gramps to listen to his stories about his life.
Stories were shared. Old times came back to life. Times of sharing and happiness, times before some places of the country descended into the madness of shady businesses. And it every story food was present. Foods made with love and shared with no other intention than love.
I had come with no expectations about what would happen. It's hard to be in a reunion with so many amazing people and feel like you are not on par with them. But we all had our time to shine in the spotlight. I share some stories of my own.
There's an open invitation to go back there once again. One I won't hesitate to take. I wonder what I'll cook next time.
For now, I'll keep living the memory of the day.
Photo by Alexis Bellorin
These are the amazing ladies I had that made my Saturday morning something amazing. From right to left we have Professor Malvina Vargas, psychologist and specialist in children's literature; Mercedes Balbás, theater teacher and storytelle; Maria Esther Álvarez, a former College Professor and children's literature writer; Gregorina Acosta, the vest storyteller in the world (according to some, myself included); I'm on the far left, you know me. I write sometimes. Taking the photo is Alexis Bellorin, biologist and an amazing illustrator.
This reunion was made possible thanks to a fiction writing workshop some of us are attending. And I hope there's more gatherings like this happening soon.
And it has to; otherwise, how am I going to finish reading all those books? Although there are some of them in other languages. I'll try my best. But I'm looking forward to sharing more experiences under the loving blessing of sharing food.
PD. This post does not endorse crumbs or stains on books. Eat and read at your own discretion, but do not taint books. Ants are likely to follow.
Cover photo created with Canva
Photos were taken with my Redmi note 8 smartphone with the exception mentioned above.
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