I vividly remember kneeling for hours on a chair in Grandma’s cozy cocina listening to her childhood stories and watching her cook. I loved hearing about her family’s journey from Mexico to Presidio and finally to El Paso, Texas. My favorite stories were of the times her mother and sisters had to cook for soldiers of the Mexican revolution at their ranch in Chihuahua, Mexico.
I can still picture her cheerful kitchen in El Paso as if it were only yesterday. It had curtains that my mother made for her and two parakeets—one green, the other yellow—chirping in their cage and keeping Grandma company. The parakeets always seemed so happy, especially when Grandma had her radio on and she sang in the kitchen. It’s as if they were singing along with her. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the parakeets and smell green chiles roasting and fresh flour tortillas cooking on her comal (iron griddle). Just thinking about the tortillas and green chiles makes my mouth water. I spent a lot of time in Grandma’s kitchen while Mom was at work, and it was like home to me.
