Feeding Mami My Chicken Tinga Recipe...

WTF is wrong with our medical system?

CALI GUISADA

It’s here and available to the public! After working on it for a year (maybe less), Cali Guisada, was officially released to the public on September 1, 2024.

This seasoning blend reminds me of a little Chicano spot called Vicky's Burritos and their specialty, Pork Chicana. A dish that seems to only exist in the California Central Valley. The blend also reminds me of the little Sinaloense pollo al carbon stands that dot the roadsides in the Central Valley.

Sazon was dedicated to my Nana, including achiote (a shrub, a tree, a seed) brought to the island of Boriken by our indigenous ancestors and immediately incorporated into the native vegetation. Of course, we use wild achiote that is grown in San Sebastian, Puerto Rico on a small farm.

Adobo Seco was dedicated to my mom. A “newer” seasoning preferred by Puerto Ricans (but introduced by Spain) that was created to mimic the flavors of a Spanish marinade without the liquid. Includes turmeric, garlic and cumin.

But, Cali Guisada is dedicated to me. An homage to me and my family, the Cali-Ricans. We cruised the boulevard on Sundays in our lowriders. We grilled carne asada at the park, but ate it with a side of ACG. We wore Dickies with a crease and cadenas with Puerto Rico medallions engraved with El Morro.

All together you have the trifecta of women and their personalities and upbringings.

It’s a mild, sweet and smoky blend. Which means I urge you to add a healthy amount of spicy chiles (fresh, dried or ground) to complement the full complexity of Cali Guisada. I didn't add chiles to the blend because I wanted to be sensitive to those who are allergic to capsicum.

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Thank you to everyone who responded to my Instagram stories about Mami’s predicament. Many of you have been through similar (if not the same) process with many of your loved ones. I know I overshare. However! Sometimes I’m glad I do because some of you really gave me information I had no idea about, like calling upon a patient advocate. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Why the fuck do so many of us in the United States have cancer though?

As some of you may know, last Friday they found a small mass in Mami’s colon during an endoscopy/colonoscopy. They called me upstairs and there I found Mami lying in the bed, looking tiny and brown with her silver hair. Exactly like my Nana. I had to stand and wait for what felt like forever while the doctor made the carousel of rounds behind thin curtains that make makeshift privacy separators, doling out bad news after bad news. He finally pushed the ejector seat button on his stop to Mami and said, “We womp womp womp womp womp cancer womp womp womp womp CT-Scan womp womp womp womp.” I tried listening as intently as I could, but Mami’s blissful post-anesthesia antics were distracting. She meowed at me while doing an impression of a cat extending its paws and claws. And then she fell back asleep. Unfortunately, they auditorily tell you all of the information at a speed walking pace within a 2 minute span.

She was lifted from the bed and placed into a wheelchair where the escort and I wheeled Mami down to radiology. As soon as we walked in, an extremely young looking brown man with beautiful skin and huge eyes unemotionally said without even making eye contact asked Mami, “Do you have an appointment and medical record number?” Mami was confused. I responded, “Why would you ask someone that question who is fresh out of anesthesia? She doesn’t know! And neither do I. They just sent us down here.” I frantically looked down at the request for the CT-Scan that had a blue stamp mark ‘WALK-IN.” How can this be a walk-in when it was requested by her doctor not more than ten minutes ago, I asked. He didn’t respond. The escort quietly whispered, “Her medical number is right here on the form, for future reference.” And I burst into tears. Don’t worry, it didn’t last long. Because it was abruptly interrupted by the Aziz Ansari impersonator, “There’s a $250 co-pay, would you like to pay that now or be billed?” I stood there looking at him, silently, while he stared at the computer screen. He finally looked at me and I said, “Bill it.”

The escort wheeled Mami to the Kaiser North ER waiting area. Gave me a kind pep talk. And dipped. We sat there for an hour before anyone came to get us. They came and collected the papers from the multiple patients in waiting, turned around and walked off, “Follow me.” Back when Mami worked at UCD Med Center, only hospital employees wheeled patients around because of “liability” sake. In fact, you had to be wheeled outside by an employee because of “liability” sake. Now? They don’t give a fuck. I was sitting there thinking the employee was going to wheel Mami to the Dante’s next circle of hell until she darted off leaving us to waddle behind her like a mother duck. Mami weakly asked the employee, “Can I go first?” And I tried to shout out, “The form says walk-in, but the doctor…” When the employee cut me off and said, “Well all of these other people are waiting too and they have an appointment.” We walked us into an outside corridor, through a tunnel and into another waiting room. We sat in the other waiting room for an hour.

By then Mami’s post-colonoscopy abdominal pains were kicking in, like the doctor said they would. Actually, like the post surgery paperwork said they would. And she was shivering cold because the two little Dickensian hospital gowns were doing nothing for her tiny anemic frame. I helplessly sat there and watched her.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt helpless. I’ve definitely reached impasses in my life. But, I also feel like I’ve been able to come back to them and find a way to leap over (or breakthrough) the impasse. I can always figure it out. I can always make it happen. This shit?!

They finally came and got Mami. Only after they almost called in another Carmen that had just walked into the room not more than a few minutes before. I finally rose out of my chair and said, “Wait a minute…” when the employee cut me off and said, “She’s been waiting her a long time,” and rolled Mami towards the CT-Scan room. Which by the way, is nothing more than a fucking inner-city elementary school bungalow. While we were being lifted onto the hydraulic ramp, the employee nonchalantly told us, “You know why it took so long? We had to go on lunch.”

First of all. Her attitude was totally different, which probably meant she wasn’t being coarse, she was probably just hangry. However! Since when does a fucking medical conglomerate act like a private practice and shut down an entire department so it can go on lunch? More importantly, why didn’t they just fucking tell us that before they went and disappeared that way some of us could have went to our car or I could have gotten Mami something to eat or drink. It had already been damn near 48 hours since she last had anything. That pissed me off more than anything….anything!

The sheer lack of communication during a time when communication is everything.

They put Mami on the bed and ran her through the CT-Scan doughnut. I watched…intently. When they were finished I went inside the room and helped Mami get dressed. She lifted her arms in the air and I put on her shirt. Bent down to put on her pants. Her shoes. I lifted her unsteady body up from the bed. Thanking the universe and everyone’s creator that I’m still strong enough to do so. Thanking the universe and everyone’s creator that I even lost those few 20 pounds to get to a point where my back doesn’t seize up after walking 200 feet. That I can wheel Mami to the outside corridor, through the tunnel and to the other room without my back seizing up.

I wheeled Mami through the outdoor pathway from the bungalow to the loading zone and parked her in the shade of a small tree. I hauled ass through the infinite aisles and lanes of the parking lot while the Central Valley sun bounced off the asphalt and onto my face and exposed extremities.

In my mind I wondered if I looked like Oprah walking through the corn field.

I got into my car and rolled into the loading zone, loaded Mami into the car and rolled her home. She was tired. Hungry. Beaten. My mom doesn’t eat. When we lived together I did all of the cooking. Now? She doesn’t cook. She mostly eats processed frozen foods and fast food. Not a vegetable in sight. Hardly consumes any meat.

The day before I had made Mami a big batch of Chicken Tinga. I had a pint of cherry tomatoes from the farmer’s market I didn’t want to waste. I simmered chicken thighs in a pot of onions, garlic, chicken bouillon and let it simmer until it turned tender enough to shred. Added the broth to my cherry tomatoes, onions and more garlic. Combined it with my CALI GUISADA blend, a can of chipotle sauce, not chipotle peppers, because Mami can’t handle the spice. I love the spice. But, you still get the chipotle flavor. Blended it all together. Shredded the chicken and added it back to the sauce where it soaked it all up. Drinking and drinking until the strands of chicken become roasty brick red. I added it onto a crispy tostada shell with Mami’s shortcut refried beans, refreshing iceberg lettuce, crema and some avocado. She didn’t eat the avocado because she’s allergic, but it sure did look appetizing.

She crunched through the tostada and the extra tinga sauce I added, because Mami likes her food saucy. She only ate a few bites. Before tiredly whimpering and heading to her bedroom. I helped her take off her hospital clothes, because we don’t lie down in our beds with outside clothes. I helped her put on her pajamas and hoist her body onto her raised California King. I handed her her phone and she started to watch her Youtube shows. I closed the door and went back to the kitchen to clean things up.

It was finally time to have a cry. The kind of cry where you think you’re gonna pass out. The kind of cry you’re only allowed once, because it’s time to get down to business, so you better make it a good cry.

The doctor called a few days later to set an appointment this week where they can discuss Mami starting radiation.

I’ll have to start cooking for Mami again because she’ll need nourishing foods to help recuperate during this journey. There will be a lot of soups.

CHICKEN TINGA RECIPE

Yields 6-8 servings

4 bone-in chicken thighs*

2 small onions, roughly chopped

4 garlic cloves, roughly chopped

1/2 chicken bouillon cube**

1 pound cherry tomatoes

1/4 cup of simmering chicken broth

1-8 ounce can Chipotle Sauce**

2 tablespoons Cali Guisada blend

1 teaspoon New Mexico Chile

1 teaspoon Chipotle chili powder

1 teaspoon Adobo seasoning, salt free

Over high heat, fill a large pot with 4-6 cups of water, or just enough to cover the chicken. Add in one small onion, two garlic cloves and bouillon cube. Bring to a rolling boil and then bring down to a simmer. Simmer until chicken is thoroughly cooked and can be shredded, 25-40 minutes.

Make sure to skim the impurity crud off the broth surface and discard.

In a separate bowl, add your cherry tomatoes, one small chopped onion, two chopped garlic cloves, some of the simmering chicken broth, chipotle sauce and blend together until smooth.

Shred the chicken. Discard the bones. Set aside. You can either discard the broth or freeze it like I do to use for another time.

Add the chipotle and cherry tomato mixture back into the same pot where you boiled the chicken and put it back on the stove on medium heat. You want a low simmer. Add all of your spices, give it a mix. Allow to simmer for 20-30 minutes until the color has darkened and the sauce thickens.

Add your shredded chicken into the seasoned sauce. Combine and ensure all the strands are coated in the sauce.

Serve with tostada fixins!

NOTES

*People also use grocery store rotisserie chicken as a shortcut.

**You can use something like Better than Bouillon.

** Don’t confuse the chipotle SAUCE with chipotles in adobo. The chipotle sauce is a mixture of tomato paste, vinegar, carrots, onion, Chipotle Peppers, sugar, and spices. The chipotle peppers in adobo sauce are just the peppers.

FOR THE VISUAL LEARNERS!

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