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Mami Maisonet
5960 S Land Park #222
Sacramento, CA 95822
Diasporican is still for sale!
I’m still trying to figure out how social media works. Like, it baffles me that I have 30K followers and yet I haven’t sold 30K copies of this book.
What do y’all think is the reason? Is it because the algorithm? Is it because the book is too expensive?
Leave some ideas down in the comments.
And don’t forget these beauties, which you’ll need for almost every one of my recipes.
It may seem crazy, but I love to get to Mami’s early in the morning during caretaking days. I’ll drive through the darkness, vibe out to my music, and enjoy a sparsely occupied road. Sunday mornings are when the roads are least crowded; dare I say totally empty? At least an hour before I know she wakes up, I’ll let myself into my childhood home.
I turn on the kitchen light and start the coffee. When I say coffee, I wouldn’t dare serve a Puerto Rican just coffee. There has to be coffee snacks involved. At the moment Mami is into the few remaining Tim Tams one of our followers sent to us, peanut butter and cheddar crackers, a few thick slices of cheese and some buttered toast. Croissants or Pillsbury pastry strudels. Raspberry and cheese danish or banana nut muffin. All of which she only takes a few bites of each, or a few, or of none. She only eats one full meal a day and even then, she’ll only eat half of it. She’s regularly consuming around 800 calories a day. This is the reason for trying to supplement high calorie snacks with her breakfast. I try and get her to at least 1,000 calories a day.
While the water for coffee bubbles I feed Che and Chillon. The sound of the cat’s demands mixes in with the migrating geese GPS outside. If it’s a below freeze morning - between December and February - I’ll start a fire. We give ourselves a handful of fires during the season because we understand the concept of “spare the air.” We love a roaring fire. Still surrounded by the darkness of a sleeping house, I sit on my nana’s little wooden stool and start the process. Grocery sales newspaper gets wadded up, twisted and placed on the bottom of the fireplace grate. Dried twigs and branches that fell to the ground during the last storm get used as kindling, they go on top of the newspaper. Two small and thin oak logs on top of the kindling. One large and fat oak log to finish it off. Spark the long match, set the flame to the newspaper. Spend the next ten minutes shifting around the logs or adding more paper.
The water is usually boiling by the time I’m finished setting up the fire. When my body ascends from the tiny stool, the cats are finished eating and are fully prepared to advance forward, take my place, and assume the position of loaf in front of the fire. They love to be toasty loaves.
It’s usually no longer dark by now and I’ll open the curtains. Like clockwork, all the commotion has changed the frequency of the house and Mami wakes up. She may not hear me moving in the house, but she can definitely feel me moving in the house. She shuffles to the kitchen and pours the boiling water into the cup over her instant coffee crystals. Adds her sugar and cream. Chooses her adventure of coffee accompaniments.
We sit in the living room in front of the fire. Mami places her cup and plate on to her little table and sits down in her recliner. We drink our coffee and nibble our nibbles. We chisme and bochinche. This exact mise en scène is one of my happy places.
I drove into Mami’s neighborhood on Saturday morning. I reached the same four way intersection I’ve driven and walked through my entire life. This time there was a single sheriff’s car (because Mami is in unincorporated territory) at the four way intersection, at the stop sign to my left. I don’t ever turn left when someone is in that spot because the homeless have set up a caravan of their homes on wheels (burnt out RVs, SUVs and sedans) there and it’s just too narrow for two cars to fit comfortably. I sat there. The sheriff sat there. I saw a ton of police cars in the distance to my right. I figured that’s where he was going. I decided to drive forward, go down the dead end road and then make a U-Turn and by the time I’d come back, he’d be down the road. Nope. As I was approaching the same intersection, a drift of police cars were approaching and stopped in the middle of the intersection. I was at the stop sign.
It was now raining. The rain, the darkness and the bright red and blue lights cutting into the duskiness limited my vision. The cops started to ooze out of their vehicles in a frenzy. I sat there deciding what the fuck I was gonna do. Hell, whatever was happening didn’t have shit to do with me. I tried to slowly inch forward.
“STOP!” shouted one of the cops. One of his arms was raised, the palm of his hand demanding my obedience. His other arm was raised, holding his gun close and upright to his shoulder. He was locked and loaded. Before I knew it I was sandwiched between - and waist high - to two trigger-prepared gendarmes demanding I roll down my window. “WHERE YOU COMING FROM?” they yelled. “My house,” I responded. “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” “My mom’s house.” “Okay, you can go.”
I was only a block away from Mami’s. Literally the next block over. And I almost didn’t make the 60 seconds it took to reach the front of her house before the vomit projectiled. I was shaking. Not from being scared. Hell, maybe it was from being scared. But, the adrenaline was coursing through my veins and I was shivering. If I could peel my fingers away from the trash bag I was using to projectile into, I would have had the sense to run into the house. But, I was both vomiting and frozen.
Later during the day I thought to myself, “what’s the big deal?” “Move on.” “This isn’t the first time this has happened.” Maybe not exactly like this, but similar. In this very same neighborhood. Some of y’all are acquainted with “the summer of drive bys” Mami lives through annually. I don’t think I’ve moved on though because it’s been days since and the image of their guns is still popping up in my head.
The life I live now is drastically different than the life I had in that neighborhood. Which is why I got the fuck out as soon as I could and didn’t return for…a long time.
My kitchen window (and part of my living room window) is nestled in the leaves of an old lemon tree. The base is in the neighbor’s courtyard. The neighbor’s are cordial and their house is a Brobdingnagian Queen Anne mansion that once served as a B&B. Sometimes I’ll sit in my kitchen to write and the tip of a red fruit harvester will be floating passed my window. This means the neighbors are harvesting some of their lemons. All I have to do is reach my arm out my window and snag one of the sunshiney fruits. Unfortunately, I already picked my side of the tree clean.
I went on a neighborhood walk in the morning to see what damages had been created from the first part of the storm. A lot of the tall trees that took a fall had been chainsawed into smaller pieces and awaiting someone to render them next year’s firewood. Luckily, not much damage had been done to people’s houses. Most of the houses in the neighborhood are Victorians built at the turn of the century. The avocado tree across the street was still standing. Whew! The neighborhood orange and lemon trees were still hanging heavy with fruit that’s mostly ignored. I came home with the pockets of my fleece vest full of Meyer and Eureka lemons and lots of rosemary. The rosemary was also provided by the neighborhood and I just thought it might be good with homemade lemon pepper wings. Eh, I couldn’t stop myself from adding adobo. Which pairs beautifully, obviously, because if its own citrus notes.
Meyer lemons are in season between November and May here in California, but they never last that long on the trees or in my kitchen. You can find other lemons available all year round. But, I always found it interesting that lemonade is associated with summer when most citrus is in abundance in winter. I’ve always seen sweet tea and lemonade consumed in large quantities in movies where people lazily lounge on verandas in pinstripe seersucker suits and cotton sun dresses. I also think of The Long, Hot Summer with Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. Even though I don’t remember them consuming lemonade in the movie. Maybe it just gives me an excuse to think about Newman and his glacier blue eyes.
I like to use a combination of Eureka and Meyer and if you know anything about these two varieties, you’ll know why. Meyers are sweet with just a tinge of tart and the Eureka packs all of the brightness and the pucker you associate with a lemon. Both are beautifully fragrant.
Roasted Lemon-Pepper Adobo Chicken Wings
Yields 2-3 servings
8 whole chicken wings
Juice from 1 Eureka Lemon,* reserve the lemon skins
Juice from 1 Meyer Lemon,*reserve the lemon skins
Salt, to taste
Ground Black Pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons of illyanna Maisonet’s Adobo
2 stalks of rosemary (optional)
1 tablespoon olive oil
Preheat your oven to 450°F
In a bowl large enough to fit all of your wings, toss your wings in the lemon juices, lemon skins, salt, pepper, adobo, rosemary and olive oil. Ensuring to massage the chicken with the mixture so it’s evenly coated. Set chicken aside for 10 minutes (or overnight).
Place your wings and the lemon skins in a cast iron skillet big enough to fit all wings. Or, a sheet tray. Or, the air fryer.* And make sure to pour any remaining marinade in the pan over the chicken wings.
Add your chicken wings to the oven and roast for 20-30 minutes or until browned and crispy. Remove and flip once the wings begin to crisp. Turn the heat down to 350°F and roast for another 30 minutes, or until crispy on both sides and thoroughly cooked.
Serve.
NOTES: Make sure to roll your lemons between the palm of your hand and a flat surface (cutting board or counter). Don’t slice the lemons down the center. Unless you’re using the lemon slices for garnish, you should always be slicing your citrus this way. This will ensure you get the most juice from your citrus. Also, when purchasing your limes, you should be looking for the smoothest ones.
Air Fryer: Crank it to 400°F and air fry the wings for 15 minutes. Flip the wings and air fry for another 15 minutes or until the wings are crispy, browned and cooked through.
You can serve these with your favorite dipping sauces. Barbecue and Ranch? Yes. I just ate them with a salad.
Love your writing, as always! Surrounding you with my Aloha as I read this, dear one!
🎢 I rode the rollercoaster with you in this piece - was still savoring nibbling my nibbles with Mami and cats by the fire when the cops made an abrupt appearance - didn’t have time to digest! At the end I was left thinking about how we consume/digest our environments along with our snacks and meals - for better or worse. Outside in, inside out.