Gracias, Abuela

coming from a latin family, i have always been acutely aware of the importance food has to a community of people forever bound by genetic mystery. my earliest memories are of the smells of a constantly working kitchen. from the sour smells of slowly cooking beans to explosions of cumino, paprika, onions, beer. the only other thing that was constant along with these olfactory representations of love was the soothingly cutting scent of freshly cleaned linoleum. you see, whenever WE were there, the grandkids i mean, grandma was in the kitchen. fideo, carne asada, papas upon papas upon just the right side of charred edges papas. no matter how tired she was from working a full ten at the army hospital, there was always something cooking in that kitchen. little did i know that she wasn't teaching me how to cook, she was teaching me how to love. still to this day, in her ancient age with the silver mane of wisdom all of us will someday hopefully earn, she still makes sure when you go to her house, there is something to eat.

each new guest i have ever brought to her house has always been amazed by the sheer quantity of food that is available. indeed this last time- and as much as it pains to me to know it truly was the 'last time' while conversely filling my heart with the knowledge of my life-long partnership with phil- she was up to her old tricks. when we got to her house, i was greeted by the tangy sweet smells that could only come from what she knows is my favourite dish: fideo. and even though she can't stand for long and has trouble sitting when she has she ensured that my husband, her newest grandson-in-law, would know what her fideo, our fideo, tastes like. there were the requisite beans with some carne asada on the side (some might think the asada would be the headliner of this meal, but they would be so very very wrong) and soft flour tortillas that tio mario would heat up when we reached the bottomless supply on the table. sweet ice tea, paper napkins, paper plates. just like it has always been and shall forever remain. this repeated sonnet of love, honour, and family now indelibly placed in my new husband's heart to one day be repeated in honour of her with our own grandchildren.

it is this that i was thinking about on my journey through my home across the water from where i started. one of those glorious london days where it is spring, fall, and summer all at the same time. she had put on a brilliantly blazing blue for the first #monkeylunch, but in that mischevious way we all have come to love and hate her for, had some clouds hiding in the grey periphery. it was a hot day where you can feel the space in between your clothes and your skin heating up like someone had put a hair dryer up your shirt. but in that way june can be there was a nice breath of fresh air keeping you from becoming a big sweaty mess. almost like a reward for destroying the kitchen the night before.

staying up quite late to finish the brownies, roll and decorate the carnitas, and make a guacomole i know my abuela would be proud of, the kitchen now looks like somebody murdered a mexican restaurant in it. the mole literally dripping from the ceiling and i am still not sure how that happened. but that is what happens when you cook with a purpose. with passion for the meal, with love for the recipients. grandma would kick my ass is she saw the state of my kitchen, but she would understand. i get carried away when cooking, and as phil says, i wouldn't be able to cook any other way.

but on my journey through london, walking past landmarks of mine and my cities shared histories, i realised just how lucky i am. here i was, a fully fledged member of the greatest city on earth. the man who i am so lucky to have found to complete my personal equation is someone who dedicates his life to public service to her. my nearest and dearest friends all wear the badge of progressive socialism with pride while all living to make this world a better place. and to top it off, the organisation i was doing this for is somewhere that i have found a home in to do the things i have always wanted to do. as i delivered the products of the previous nights maelstrom of flavours, love, and laughter to friends who believe in us and are supporting us through this mental and physical challenge, i pause to pay thanks to london. for giving me a world to call my own.

and then she rained on me as if to say "you're welcome, kid".