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#call me tortilla de papa the way I’m.....
sambuchito · 1 year
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Ideologically I don’t agree with spaniards existing but they kinda went off with tortilla de papas
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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years
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‘This Is What’s Keeping Our Pantry Full’ | ‘De Esto Mantenemos la Despensa’
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The nonprofit No Us Without You feeds more than 1,300 undocumented families in Los Angeles that have been impacted by COVID-19. Here are some of their stories.
It’s said that prep cooks, dishwashers, and bussers are the backbone of the restaurant industry, but when the pandemic arrived, forcing restaurants to shutter, it was these workers who were hardest hit. About 10 percent of restaurant employees in the United States are undocumented immigrants (many studies estimate that number to be much higher); although they pay taxes, with few exceptions, undocumented workers are unable to receive government aid like unemployment benefits. When COVID-19 put them out of work, many were forced to use up savings, and in the worst cases, choose between paying rent or buying food.
As mutual aid efforts sprung up in response nationwide, Los Angeles-based grassroots organization No Us Without You started feeding the families of undocumented restaurant workers. The founders and weekly volunteers, who are all industry veterans, see their efforts as a way to give back to the essential workers that made their own careers possible. (Read more about No Us Without You here.)
Below are some of the stories of these workers, in their own words.
Gaspar, prep cook originally from Oaxaca, Mexico
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In Mexico, I didn't cook. I had my parents. They gave me everything. We were not rich, but we always had enough food. In the '80s, you would hear people saying that in the United States, you make good money. People started leaving, and one of them was me. I was quite young, about 17 years old. The first job I had was in a car wash in Encino, and then I started working in a restaurant washing dishes, and eventually learned to cook. I worked for a Chinese company called Chinese Gourmet Express for like 14 years. I was a sous chef. All jobs are tiring, but there are jobs that kill you little by little; cooking is one of them. I'm already 50 years old. That's why I only work as a prep cook now. We are responsible for everything the cooks need. I was working at an American bar and restaurant when the pandemic started. First they cut our hours, and then they closed. To this day, I don't have a formal job. I went out to look for work standing on street corners. I found steady work two or three days a week cleaning a garden and taking care of cars. We've used the little savings we had to pay rent. Anything that we earn goes to rent. My wife's nephew told me he gets food from this organization and we signed up. It's honestly helped a lot because you can't get much with $100 at the market anymore. Everything is expensive. This help is like getting $100 in cash. I have two kids who graduated from college at UC Berkeley. They are working in San Francisco as nurses at a hospital. We are lucky. What we have not been able to accomplish, they have accomplished. We are not accepting help from them, because they have student debt. They have to get out of debt first so they can help us. Yesterday I went to work at a [new] restaurant for the first time. They called me back. I hope they keep me. The government is saying that we [immigrants] are a burden, what a lie! They ignore our productivity. Hispanic people in general are the most cautious, they are the hardest workers. That is the reality in this country, everything is the opposite. For example, in my case, I'm thankful to [No Us Without You] for this great help, but outside of that, I don't get help from anywhere else. We fend for ourselves. We [immigrants] are the backbone of all businesses, not just restaurants. Because if you look at it, Hispanics are in construction, Hispanics are in gardening, Hispanics are in hotels, in the restaurants, fixing the streets, in everything. We are the support nationwide. Hispanics are the pillar of the nation, but it's difficult for that to be recognized. Many people are returning to Mexico. We are thinking of going back too. We have a place to go back to. We built a humble house on the land my parents left me. And I'm planning on starting a business in my small town in Oaxaca. With my age, and the experience that I have living in this country, I realize that this is not living. There comes a time where one can get sick, and what does one have here? The government is not going to help you.
En México, yo no cocinaba. Tenía mis papas. Ellos me daban todo. No éramos ricos pero siempre teníamos suficiente comida. En los 80 se escuchaba que la gente decía que ahí en Estados Unidos se gana bien. Entonces la gente se fue saliendo y uno de ellos fui yo. Estaba bastante joven. Tenía unos 17 años. El primer trabajo que tuve fue un car wash en Encino y después empecé a trabajar en un restaurante. Empecé lavando trastes. Y aprendí a cocinar. Trabajé en una compañía china que se llama Chinese Gourmet Express por como 14 años. Yo era sous chef. Yo digo que todos los trabajos cansan pero hay trabajos que te van matando poco a poco. Ya tengo 50. Por eso yo nada más trabajo en preparación. Nosotros somos responsables de todo lo que ocupan los cocineros. Estaba trabajando en un restaurante y bar americano cuando empezó la pandemia primero. Primero quitaron las horas y después cerraron. Hasta la fecha no he conseguido trabajo formalmente. Salía a buscar trabajo en las esquinas. Con suerte conseguí trabajo dos o tres días a la semana limpiando un jardín y cuidando carros. Para la renta hemos estado agarrando el poquito de ahorro que teníamos. Lo que ganamos se va a la renta. Un sobrino de mi señora me dijo que recibe comida de esta organización. Entonces nos inscribimos. La verdad nos ha servido bastante porque ahorita en el mercado ya no se compra nada con $100. Todo está caro. Es como si me hubieran dado unos $100 en dinero en efectivo. Yo tengo dos hijos graduados en el colegio en Berkeley. Ellos están trabajando allá en San Francisco. Son enfermeros en un hospital. Somos afortunados. Lo que no hemos podido hacer nosotros, lo hicieron ellos. No les estamos aceptando ayuda porque ellos también tienen deuda de la escuela. Tienen que salir de eso para que nos puedan ayudar. Ayer fui a trabajar con un señor, ya me llamó para que empiece en un restaurante. Ojalá que me diga que me quede. El gobierno está diciendo que somos una carga. ¡Qué mentira! Ignoran que somos productivos. La gente hispana en general son los más precavidos, son los más trabajadores. Esa es la realidad en este país, todo es lo contrario. Por ejemplo, en mi caso, estoy agradecido a [No Us Without You] por esta ayuda, pero de ahí yo no agarro una ayuda de ningún otro lado. Nos la buscamos como sea. Nosotros somos la columna vertebral de todos los negocios, no nada más en restaurantes. Porque si lo vemos, el hispano está en la construcción, el hispano está en la jardinería, el hispano está en las hotelerías, en los restaurantes, arreglando las calles, en todo. Somos el soporte a nivel nacional. Los hispanos somos el pilar de la nación, nada más que es muy difícil que se reconozca. Mucha gente está regresando a México. Nosotros ya estamos pensando en irnos. Nosotros tenemos donde llegar. Hemos hecho una casita humildemente en la tierra de los viejos. Yo voy a hacer mi propio negocio. Con la edad que tengo, la experiencia que tengo viviendo en este país, esto no es vida. Llega el momento en que uno se puede enfermar y ¿qué tiene uno? El gobierno no va a respaldar.
José, busser originally from Oaxaca, Mexico
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I'm a computer technician. I used to work for the state government in Mexico. As my daughters were growing up, I wanted to give them a better education, and due to the limits of my education, I couldn't get better jobs. The economic situation leads us to migrate. I started working in a restaurant when I arrived 13 years ago. I started as a dishwasher in Bel Air and then as a busser at a luxury restaurant in Santa Monica. I currently work as a busser at an American seafood restaurant in West Hollywood. I also work at a Mexican restaurant in Century City. The truth is, living in Los Angeles with only one job isn't enough. I worked almost full time at both of them, but when the pandemic hit, everything closed. We definitely weren't expecting this. As migrants, we have no income from the government, nothing. I was out of work for four months. A friend told me about an organization that's helping immigrants. So I registered by phone. This has been very helpful to my family and my friends. The food they give us is of good quality, it's not just anything. I use the apple and celery to make green juices. I cut the squash and make it with eggs. The tortillas they give us are delicious. The yogurt I use to make smoothies. We use everything. In July, the restaurants reopened and I started working again, but with fewer hours. I work 25 hours in one restaurant and 25 hours in the other. Before, I worked about 35 hours at each. Working al fresco means being out in the sun. Where I work in West Hollywood we set up in the restaurant parking lot. One person sets the tables and chairs in the morning and we have to put them away at night. I'm 48 years old. It's hard work, but there's no other choice. We depend on businesses staying open. We have to be careful not to spread the infection. Exposing oneself [to COVID-19] is delicate for your health, and it also means not working for at least 15 days. Right now there's talk that things will close again. We'll be out of work again, out of resources. I spent the money I had saved up in those first four months of the pandemic. This pandemic came to depress us, to make us dip into our savings. I have a colleague who wasn't called back. They only called back about 70 percent of the staff. It makes you ask, "Why him and not me?" I always try to better myself and my situation, but work consumes me. In 2010, I took a graphic design course. I bought my computer. I have my accessories. Since I was an IT technician for 30 years, I know computers from top to bottom. I also have my camera and my lenses. I was working with a friend years ago taking wedding photos. I have the equipment in case I go back to Mexico; I can start a photography business there.
Yo soy técnico en computación informática, estuve trabajando en el gobierno estatal en México. Mis hijas venían creciendo; quería darles una mejor educación y mi educación escolar pues me limitaba a obtener mejores puestos. La situación económica nos hace migrar. Yo empecé a trabajar en un restaurante desde que llegué hace 13 años. Me metí a trabajar en un restaurante en Bel Air como dishwasher. Después trabajé en un restaurante de lujo en Santa Mónica de busboy y ya empiezo. Yo trabajo de busboy en un restaurante americano de mariscos en West Hollywood y también trabajo en uno mexicano en Century City. La verdad, vivir en Los Ángeles con solo un trabajo no es suficiente. Yo trabajaba casi full time en los dos y viene esto de la pandemia y todo cerrado. No nos esperábamos esto definitivamente. Como nosotros somos migrantes, no tenemos ingresos por parte del gobierno, nada. Estuve cuatro meses sin trabajo. Un amigo me dijo de una organización que está ayudando a inmigrantes. Entonces me registré por teléfono. Esto ha sido de bastante ayuda para nosotros y para mis amigos. Los alimentos que nos dan son de buena calidad, no son cualquier cosa. La manzana y apio los uso para hacer jugos verdes. El squash la corto y la hago con huevo. La tortilla que nos dan es exquisita. El yogurt para hacer smoothie. Todo se ocupa. En julio se abrieron los restaurantes otra vez y empezamos con pocas horas. Trabajo 25 horas en uno y 25 horas en el otro. Antes trabajaba unas 35 horas en cada lugar. Trabajar al fresco es estar en el sol y por ejemplo en el trabajo donde estoy en West Hollywood estamos trabajando en el parking del restaurante. Una persona pone las mesas y sillas en la mañana y nosotros en la noche las tenemos que meter, todas las noches. Cuesta el trabajo pero tenemos que trabajar. Dependemos de la apertura. Nos tenemos que cuidar para no extender el contagio. Exponerse es delicado para la salud y también significa perder el trabajo por al menos 15 días. Ahorita se está hablando de que probablemente se vuelva a cerrar. Otra vez nos quedamos sin trabajo, nos quedamos sin recursos. Yo mi dinero que tenía ahorrado pues se me fue en esos primeros cuatro meses de la pandemia. Esto nos vino a deprimir, a echar mano en los ahorros. Tengo un compañero que no lo llamaron para trabajar. Llamaron como a un 70 por ciento a trabajar. Dice uno, "¿Por qué a mí no y a él sí Yo trato de superar pero el trabajo me consume. En el 2010 estudié un curso de diseño gráfico. Me compré mi computadora. Tengo mis accesorios, como soy técnico informático de hace 30 años. Entonces conozco la computadora de arriba para abajo. Yo tengo mi cámara fotográfica, mis lentes. Estuve trabajando con una amiga hace años haciendo fotos de bodas. Tengo mi equipo por si regreso a México; puedo trabajar en eso.
Esperanza, lonchera cook originally from Michoacan, Mexico
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I came here because in Mexico there isn't much work, and there's a lot of poverty. If it's difficult here, the situation there is worse. I've been working as a cook at a lonchera [food truck] for 16 years. Before that, I worked as a prep cook at another lonchera. My mom taught me to cook. I cook meat for tacos, chicharrones, chicken, tortas, hamburgers. We also make Mexican dishes like chilaquiles, birria, ribs in green salsa with rice and beans. Mexican food sells very well. We drive around where the car dealerships are. Our clients are car salesmen, car washers, secretaries. We also go to two factories. I like my job, but I've been having a lot of knee problems from being on my feet 10 hours a day. This pandemic affected me a lot. I didn't work a single day for three months. I'm back at work now, but instead of working five days a week, I only work two. Sales have fallen because there aren't as many people at the car dealerships. Many car salesmen, car washers, and secretaries were let go. One day I drove by here and saw that there was food being distributed. We submitted an application. We don't miss a week because this is what's keeping our pantry full. It was a big relief because we're not even making enough money to pay the rent. Many people treat you with a lot of racism here, but they should realize that it's because of Latinos that California functions. Because who picks the fruit, the vegetables, all this that they're giving us in this box? Eggs, meat, milk: Who makes it? We Latinos. Many people don't see that. It's a lot of work. They don't see the effort people are making. I have a 22-year-old son who I brought from Mexico five years ago. But my older girl stayed; she had already made her life there. It's been 22 years since I've seen her. When I'm not at work, I dedicate myself to my home. I also sell homemade food to my friends. I make pozole or chiles rellenos or pupusas to earn a little extra money. My job is important to me because I can support my family and I like to see customers leave satisfied and liking the Mexican flavor.
Me vine porque en México no hay mucho trabajo, hay mucha pobreza. Si aquí es difícil, allá está peor. Tengo 16 años trabajando como cocinera en una lonchera. Antes de eso también estaba en una lonchera pero como ayudante picando verdura. Mi mamá me enseñó a cocinar. Yo cocino carne para tacos, chicharrones, pollo, tortas, hamburguesas, todo eso. También hacemos platillos mexicanos como chilaquiles, birria, costillitas en salsa verde con su arroz y su frijol. La comida mexicana es muy bien vendida. Andamos por toda el área de donde están los dealers de carros. Nuestros clientes son vendedores de carro, lavadores de carro, hay secretarias. Vamos también a dos fábricas. Me gusta mi trabajo pero ya he tenido muchos problemas con mis rodillas por estar parada 10 horas al día. La pandemia me afectó mucho. Duré como tres meses sin trabajar ni un día. Ya estoy trabajando otra vez pero en lugar de trabajar los cinco días, solo trabajo dos. Se bajaron las ventas porque en los dealers ya no hay tanta gente. Descansaron muchos vendedores, muchas secretarias, muchos lavadores. Una vez pasamos por aquí y miramos que había distribución de comida. Metimos la aplicación y de ahí no faltamos porque de eso mantenemos la despensa. Nos ha aliviado mucho porque no estamos sacando ni para la renta. Mucha gente te trata con mucho racismo aquí, pero que se pongan a pensar, por nosotros los latinos, es que es California. Porque ¿quién pisca la fruta, la verdura, todo esto que nos están dando? Los huevos, la carne, la leche: ¿Quién lo hace? Nosotros los latinos. Mucha gente no lo ve. Es mucho trabajo. Y no ven el esfuerzo de la gente. Tengo un muchachito de 22 años. Ese me lo traje aquí como hace cinco años. Pero la muchacha ya mayor se quedó; ella ya hizo su vida. Tengo 22 años que no la veo. Cuando no estoy en mi trabajo me dedico a mi hogar. También vendo comida casera a mis amistades. Hago pozole o chiles rellenos o pupusas para ganar un dinerito extra. Para mí es importante mi trabajo porque puedo mantener a mi familia y me gusta ver a los clientes que se vayan satisfechos y que les guste el sazón mexicano.
Maxima, prep cook originally from Chihuahua, Mexico
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I learned to cook from life. When I lived in Mexico, I worked in a hotel with a restaurant. I would make the beds and from there I would run down to the restaurant. I would tell the chefs, "Hey, I'll help you clean the beans, I'll help you choose the rice." I watched from afar how the food was being prepared and wrote everything down. Then, I would run home and I would prepare what I learned. Later, the chef saw that he couldn't get rid of me and asked me to be his assistant. He started showing me how to cook, and I said "I found my place." I love cooking. It's my life. I came here because I'm a single mom and my daughter wanted to go to college. How would I pay for it? I had to find a way. I was in New York for 12 years, where I worked at two Burger Kings and a Wendy's as a cook. I came to Los Angeles because my daughter wanted to come here. She had already finished college. I started working at a Burger King here too. Then I worked at [a West Hollywood restaurant] as a prep cook for four years. I would prepare everything they sold at night. All the cook has to do is take out the trays we prepare to finish cooking and then the dish goes to the table. Things are already measured. People don't see the back of house staff who are marginalized. The people in the back do the most work. And we're the ones who receive the least. From there I went to [a restaurant in Downtown LA] where I stayed for another four years until the pandemic started. They let us go because there was no work. I'm now 54 years old. I don't even know how I did it. I lost my car. This one I'm driving is my brother's. I don't spend anything on food. Because everything they [No Us Without You] give us is useful. It helps us a lot. I'll be honest with you: I owe a month's rent because I can't handle everything. There was a time during the pandemic when I went to Dodger Stadium with my daughter to collect cans and we would sell them. That's how we paid the electric bill. Right now, I'm working at a restaurant three days a week making ceviche. I've learned another job! I know that one day I'll tell this story. I'm going to say, "I survived." What I thank God for the most is that I haven't become infected. The most important thing is that your family is united. The downtown restaurant called me to see if they can hire me again. My hobby is food prep, the smell of the vegetables. What I like most is learning new things every day: That's the beauty of a restaurant that always changes menus. I love it there because the chef told me, "You take care of the spices." The basil, thyme, rosemary, all that passed through these little hands. When I finish all my work and I say, "And now what am I going to do for myself?," I take my grandson and I go hiking up a mountain. When he no longer wants to walk, I have to carry him on my back until we get to the top. I try to go out where there aren't many people. I try to find a way to be myself. My dream is to set up a stall and sell ceviches. I would love that; it's my most precious dream. But it's just a dream.
Yo aprendí a cocinar de la vida. Cuando vivía en México, trabajé en un hotel con un restaurante. Yo arreglaba las camas y de ahí bajaba corriendo al restaurante. Les decía a los chefs, "Oye te ayudo a limpiar frijoles, yo te ayudo a escoger el arroz". Veía de lejos como preparaban la comida y apuntaba todo. Me iba corriendo para mi casa y yo preparaba lo que aprendía. Ya después vio el chef que no me podía sacar de la cocina y me preguntó si quería ser su ayudante. Él empezó a enseñarme la cocina y dije "De aquí soy". Me encanta la cocina. Esa es mi vida. Yo me vine aquí porque soy mamá soltera y mi hija quería sacar su universidad y ¿de dónde yo sacaba? Tenía que buscarle. Estuve en Nueva York 12 años. Trabajaba como cocinera en dos Burger Kings y un Wendy's. Me vine para Los Ángeles porque mi hija quería venirse. Ya había terminado la universidad. Empecé a trabajar en un Burger King aquí también. Después trabajé en un restaurante de West Hollywood como preparadora por cuatro años. Preparaba todo lo que vendían en la noche. El cocinero nada más saca de los trays que le ponemos nosotros para terminar de cocinar y va para la mesa. Ya están medidas las cosas. La gente no ve que los trabajadores de atrás son marginados. Las personas que están atrás son las que más hacen el trabajo. Y somos los que menos recibimos. Despues me fui a [un restaurante en el centro de Los Ángeles] donde estuve otros cuatro años hasta que empezó la pandemia. Nos despidieron a todos porque no había trabajo. Yo tengo ahorita 54 años. Ni yo sé cómo lo hice. Perdí el carro. Este carro es de mi hermano. No gasto nada en comida. Porque todo lo que ellos [No Us Without You] me dan me sirve. Nos ayuda mucho. Ahorita no te voy a mentir: debo un mes de renta porque no puedo con todo. Hubo una temporada durante la pandemia que me iba al estadio de los Dodgers con mi hija a recoger botes y los vendíamos. Con eso pagamos la luz. Ahorita voy a un restaurante, ahí me dan tres días de trabajo como cevichera. ¡Ya aprendí otro trabajo más! Yo sé que un día voy a contar esto. Voy a decir, "Sobreviví". Y lo que le doy más gracias a Dios es que no me he contagiado de nada. Lo principal es que tu familia esté unida. Ahorita me llamaron del restaurante en el centro para ver si me vuelven a contratar. Mi hobby es la preparación, el olor a las verduras. Lo que más me gusta es cada día aprender cosas. Eso es lo bonito de un restaurante que siempre cambia los menús. Me encantaba ese restaurante porque el chef me decía a mí, "Tú te encargas de los olores". La albahaca, el tomillo, el rosemary, todo eso pasaba por estas manitas. Cuando ya termino toda mi labor y digo, "¿Y ahora que voy a hacer para mí?", me llevo a mi nieto y me voy al cerro a caminar. Donde él ya no quiere caminar tengo que cargarlo en la espalda hasta que llegamos arriba. Trato la manera de salir donde no hay mucha gente. Trato la manera de ser yo. Mi sueño es poner un local y vender ceviches. Me encantaría; es mi sueño adorado. Pero eso es un sueño nada más.
Samanta Helou Hernandez is a multimedia journalist and photographer based in LA covering culture, identity, and social issues. Copy edited by Emily Safrin
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The nonprofit No Us Without You feeds more than 1,300 undocumented families in Los Angeles that have been impacted by COVID-19. Here are some of their stories.
It’s said that prep cooks, dishwashers, and bussers are the backbone of the restaurant industry, but when the pandemic arrived, forcing restaurants to shutter, it was these workers who were hardest hit. About 10 percent of restaurant employees in the United States are undocumented immigrants (many studies estimate that number to be much higher); although they pay taxes, with few exceptions, undocumented workers are unable to receive government aid like unemployment benefits. When COVID-19 put them out of work, many were forced to use up savings, and in the worst cases, choose between paying rent or buying food.
As mutual aid efforts sprung up in response nationwide, Los Angeles-based grassroots organization No Us Without You started feeding the families of undocumented restaurant workers. The founders and weekly volunteers, who are all industry veterans, see their efforts as a way to give back to the essential workers that made their own careers possible. (Read more about No Us Without You here.)
Below are some of the stories of these workers, in their own words.
Gaspar, prep cook originally from Oaxaca, Mexico
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In Mexico, I didn't cook. I had my parents. They gave me everything. We were not rich, but we always had enough food. In the '80s, you would hear people saying that in the United States, you make good money. People started leaving, and one of them was me. I was quite young, about 17 years old. The first job I had was in a car wash in Encino, and then I started working in a restaurant washing dishes, and eventually learned to cook. I worked for a Chinese company called Chinese Gourmet Express for like 14 years. I was a sous chef. All jobs are tiring, but there are jobs that kill you little by little; cooking is one of them. I'm already 50 years old. That's why I only work as a prep cook now. We are responsible for everything the cooks need. I was working at an American bar and restaurant when the pandemic started. First they cut our hours, and then they closed. To this day, I don't have a formal job. I went out to look for work standing on street corners. I found steady work two or three days a week cleaning a garden and taking care of cars. We've used the little savings we had to pay rent. Anything that we earn goes to rent. My wife's nephew told me he gets food from this organization and we signed up. It's honestly helped a lot because you can't get much with $100 at the market anymore. Everything is expensive. This help is like getting $100 in cash. I have two kids who graduated from college at UC Berkeley. They are working in San Francisco as nurses at a hospital. We are lucky. What we have not been able to accomplish, they have accomplished. We are not accepting help from them, because they have student debt. They have to get out of debt first so they can help us. Yesterday I went to work at a [new] restaurant for the first time. They called me back. I hope they keep me. The government is saying that we [immigrants] are a burden, what a lie! They ignore our productivity. Hispanic people in general are the most cautious, they are the hardest workers. That is the reality in this country, everything is the opposite. For example, in my case, I'm thankful to [No Us Without You] for this great help, but outside of that, I don't get help from anywhere else. We fend for ourselves. We [immigrants] are the backbone of all businesses, not just restaurants. Because if you look at it, Hispanics are in construction, Hispanics are in gardening, Hispanics are in hotels, in the restaurants, fixing the streets, in everything. We are the support nationwide. Hispanics are the pillar of the nation, but it's difficult for that to be recognized. Many people are returning to Mexico. We are thinking of going back too. We have a place to go back to. We built a humble house on the land my parents left me. And I'm planning on starting a business in my small town in Oaxaca. With my age, and the experience that I have living in this country, I realize that this is not living. There comes a time where one can get sick, and what does one have here? The government is not going to help you.
En México, yo no cocinaba. Tenía mis papas. Ellos me daban todo. No éramos ricos pero siempre teníamos suficiente comida. En los 80 se escuchaba que la gente decía que ahí en Estados Unidos se gana bien. Entonces la gente se fue saliendo y uno de ellos fui yo. Estaba bastante joven. Tenía unos 17 años. El primer trabajo que tuve fue un car wash en Encino y después empecé a trabajar en un restaurante. Empecé lavando trastes. Y aprendí a cocinar. Trabajé en una compañía china que se llama Chinese Gourmet Express por como 14 años. Yo era sous chef. Yo digo que todos los trabajos cansan pero hay trabajos que te van matando poco a poco. Ya tengo 50. Por eso yo nada más trabajo en preparación. Nosotros somos responsables de todo lo que ocupan los cocineros. Estaba trabajando en un restaurante y bar americano cuando empezó la pandemia primero. Primero quitaron las horas y después cerraron. Hasta la fecha no he conseguido trabajo formalmente. Salía a buscar trabajo en las esquinas. Con suerte conseguí trabajo dos o tres días a la semana limpiando un jardín y cuidando carros. Para la renta hemos estado agarrando el poquito de ahorro que teníamos. Lo que ganamos se va a la renta. Un sobrino de mi señora me dijo que recibe comida de esta organización. Entonces nos inscribimos. La verdad nos ha servido bastante porque ahorita en el mercado ya no se compra nada con $100. Todo está caro. Es como si me hubieran dado unos $100 en dinero en efectivo. Yo tengo dos hijos graduados en el colegio en Berkeley. Ellos están trabajando allá en San Francisco. Son enfermeros en un hospital. Somos afortunados. Lo que no hemos podido hacer nosotros, lo hicieron ellos. No les estamos aceptando ayuda porque ellos también tienen deuda de la escuela. Tienen que salir de eso para que nos puedan ayudar. Ayer fui a trabajar con un señor, ya me llamó para que empiece en un restaurante. Ojalá que me diga que me quede. El gobierno está diciendo que somos una carga. ¡Qué mentira! Ignoran que somos productivos. La gente hispana en general son los más precavidos, son los más trabajadores. Esa es la realidad en este país, todo es lo contrario. Por ejemplo, en mi caso, estoy agradecido a [No Us Without You] por esta ayuda, pero de ahí yo no agarro una ayuda de ningún otro lado. Nos la buscamos como sea. Nosotros somos la columna vertebral de todos los negocios, no nada más en restaurantes. Porque si lo vemos, el hispano está en la construcción, el hispano está en la jardinería, el hispano está en las hotelerías, en los restaurantes, arreglando las calles, en todo. Somos el soporte a nivel nacional. Los hispanos somos el pilar de la nación, nada más que es muy difícil que se reconozca. Mucha gente está regresando a México. Nosotros ya estamos pensando en irnos. Nosotros tenemos donde llegar. Hemos hecho una casita humildemente en la tierra de los viejos. Yo voy a hacer mi propio negocio. Con la edad que tengo, la experiencia que tengo viviendo en este país, esto no es vida. Llega el momento en que uno se puede enfermar y ¿qué tiene uno? El gobierno no va a respaldar.
José, busser originally from Oaxaca, Mexico
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I'm a computer technician. I used to work for the state government in Mexico. As my daughters were growing up, I wanted to give them a better education, and due to the limits of my education, I couldn't get better jobs. The economic situation leads us to migrate. I started working in a restaurant when I arrived 13 years ago. I started as a dishwasher in Bel Air and then as a busser at a luxury restaurant in Santa Monica. I currently work as a busser at an American seafood restaurant in West Hollywood. I also work at a Mexican restaurant in Century City. The truth is, living in Los Angeles with only one job isn't enough. I worked almost full time at both of them, but when the pandemic hit, everything closed. We definitely weren't expecting this. As migrants, we have no income from the government, nothing. I was out of work for four months. A friend told me about an organization that's helping immigrants. So I registered by phone. This has been very helpful to my family and my friends. The food they give us is of good quality, it's not just anything. I use the apple and celery to make green juices. I cut the squash and make it with eggs. The tortillas they give us are delicious. The yogurt I use to make smoothies. We use everything. In July, the restaurants reopened and I started working again, but with fewer hours. I work 25 hours in one restaurant and 25 hours in the other. Before, I worked about 35 hours at each. Working al fresco means being out in the sun. Where I work in West Hollywood we set up in the restaurant parking lot. One person sets the tables and chairs in the morning and we have to put them away at night. I'm 48 years old. It's hard work, but there's no other choice. We depend on businesses staying open. We have to be careful not to spread the infection. Exposing oneself [to COVID-19] is delicate for your health, and it also means not working for at least 15 days. Right now there's talk that things will close again. We'll be out of work again, out of resources. I spent the money I had saved up in those first four months of the pandemic. This pandemic came to depress us, to make us dip into our savings. I have a colleague who wasn't called back. They only called back about 70 percent of the staff. It makes you ask, "Why him and not me?" I always try to better myself and my situation, but work consumes me. In 2010, I took a graphic design course. I bought my computer. I have my accessories. Since I was an IT technician for 30 years, I know computers from top to bottom. I also have my camera and my lenses. I was working with a friend years ago taking wedding photos. I have the equipment in case I go back to Mexico; I can start a photography business there.
Yo soy técnico en computación informática, estuve trabajando en el gobierno estatal en México. Mis hijas venían creciendo; quería darles una mejor educación y mi educación escolar pues me limitaba a obtener mejores puestos. La situación económica nos hace migrar. Yo empecé a trabajar en un restaurante desde que llegué hace 13 años. Me metí a trabajar en un restaurante en Bel Air como dishwasher. Después trabajé en un restaurante de lujo en Santa Mónica de busboy y ya empiezo. Yo trabajo de busboy en un restaurante americano de mariscos en West Hollywood y también trabajo en uno mexicano en Century City. La verdad, vivir en Los Ángeles con solo un trabajo no es suficiente. Yo trabajaba casi full time en los dos y viene esto de la pandemia y todo cerrado. No nos esperábamos esto definitivamente. Como nosotros somos migrantes, no tenemos ingresos por parte del gobierno, nada. Estuve cuatro meses sin trabajo. Un amigo me dijo de una organización que está ayudando a inmigrantes. Entonces me registré por teléfono. Esto ha sido de bastante ayuda para nosotros y para mis amigos. Los alimentos que nos dan son de buena calidad, no son cualquier cosa. La manzana y apio los uso para hacer jugos verdes. El squash la corto y la hago con huevo. La tortilla que nos dan es exquisita. El yogurt para hacer smoothie. Todo se ocupa. En julio se abrieron los restaurantes otra vez y empezamos con pocas horas. Trabajo 25 horas en uno y 25 horas en el otro. Antes trabajaba unas 35 horas en cada lugar. Trabajar al fresco es estar en el sol y por ejemplo en el trabajo donde estoy en West Hollywood estamos trabajando en el parking del restaurante. Una persona pone las mesas y sillas en la mañana y nosotros en la noche las tenemos que meter, todas las noches. Cuesta el trabajo pero tenemos que trabajar. Dependemos de la apertura. Nos tenemos que cuidar para no extender el contagio. Exponerse es delicado para la salud y también significa perder el trabajo por al menos 15 días. Ahorita se está hablando de que probablemente se vuelva a cerrar. Otra vez nos quedamos sin trabajo, nos quedamos sin recursos. Yo mi dinero que tenía ahorrado pues se me fue en esos primeros cuatro meses de la pandemia. Esto nos vino a deprimir, a echar mano en los ahorros. Tengo un compañero que no lo llamaron para trabajar. Llamaron como a un 70 por ciento a trabajar. Dice uno, "¿Por qué a mí no y a él sí Yo trato de superar pero el trabajo me consume. En el 2010 estudié un curso de diseño gráfico. Me compré mi computadora. Tengo mis accesorios, como soy técnico informático de hace 30 años. Entonces conozco la computadora de arriba para abajo. Yo tengo mi cámara fotográfica, mis lentes. Estuve trabajando con una amiga hace años haciendo fotos de bodas. Tengo mi equipo por si regreso a México; puedo trabajar en eso.
Esperanza, lonchera cook originally from Michoacan, Mexico
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I came here because in Mexico there isn't much work, and there's a lot of poverty. If it's difficult here, the situation there is worse. I've been working as a cook at a lonchera [food truck] for 16 years. Before that, I worked as a prep cook at another lonchera. My mom taught me to cook. I cook meat for tacos, chicharrones, chicken, tortas, hamburgers. We also make Mexican dishes like chilaquiles, birria, ribs in green salsa with rice and beans. Mexican food sells very well. We drive around where the car dealerships are. Our clients are car salesmen, car washers, secretaries. We also go to two factories. I like my job, but I've been having a lot of knee problems from being on my feet 10 hours a day. This pandemic affected me a lot. I didn't work a single day for three months. I'm back at work now, but instead of working five days a week, I only work two. Sales have fallen because there aren't as many people at the car dealerships. Many car salesmen, car washers, and secretaries were let go. One day I drove by here and saw that there was food being distributed. We submitted an application. We don't miss a week because this is what's keeping our pantry full. It was a big relief because we're not even making enough money to pay the rent. Many people treat you with a lot of racism here, but they should realize that it's because of Latinos that California functions. Because who picks the fruit, the vegetables, all this that they're giving us in this box? Eggs, meat, milk: Who makes it? We Latinos. Many people don't see that. It's a lot of work. They don't see the effort people are making. I have a 22-year-old son who I brought from Mexico five years ago. But my older girl stayed; she had already made her life there. It's been 22 years since I've seen her. When I'm not at work, I dedicate myself to my home. I also sell homemade food to my friends. I make pozole or chiles rellenos or pupusas to earn a little extra money. My job is important to me because I can support my family and I like to see customers leave satisfied and liking the Mexican flavor.
Me vine porque en México no hay mucho trabajo, hay mucha pobreza. Si aquí es difícil, allá está peor. Tengo 16 años trabajando como cocinera en una lonchera. Antes de eso también estaba en una lonchera pero como ayudante picando verdura. Mi mamá me enseñó a cocinar. Yo cocino carne para tacos, chicharrones, pollo, tortas, hamburguesas, todo eso. También hacemos platillos mexicanos como chilaquiles, birria, costillitas en salsa verde con su arroz y su frijol. La comida mexicana es muy bien vendida. Andamos por toda el área de donde están los dealers de carros. Nuestros clientes son vendedores de carro, lavadores de carro, hay secretarias. Vamos también a dos fábricas. Me gusta mi trabajo pero ya he tenido muchos problemas con mis rodillas por estar parada 10 horas al día. La pandemia me afectó mucho. Duré como tres meses sin trabajar ni un día. Ya estoy trabajando otra vez pero en lugar de trabajar los cinco días, solo trabajo dos. Se bajaron las ventas porque en los dealers ya no hay tanta gente. Descansaron muchos vendedores, muchas secretarias, muchos lavadores. Una vez pasamos por aquí y miramos que había distribución de comida. Metimos la aplicación y de ahí no faltamos porque de eso mantenemos la despensa. Nos ha aliviado mucho porque no estamos sacando ni para la renta. Mucha gente te trata con mucho racismo aquí, pero que se pongan a pensar, por nosotros los latinos, es que es California. Porque ¿quién pisca la fruta, la verdura, todo esto que nos están dando? Los huevos, la carne, la leche: ¿Quién lo hace? Nosotros los latinos. Mucha gente no lo ve. Es mucho trabajo. Y no ven el esfuerzo de la gente. Tengo un muchachito de 22 años. Ese me lo traje aquí como hace cinco años. Pero la muchacha ya mayor se quedó; ella ya hizo su vida. Tengo 22 años que no la veo. Cuando no estoy en mi trabajo me dedico a mi hogar. También vendo comida casera a mis amistades. Hago pozole o chiles rellenos o pupusas para ganar un dinerito extra. Para mí es importante mi trabajo porque puedo mantener a mi familia y me gusta ver a los clientes que se vayan satisfechos y que les guste el sazón mexicano.
Maxima, prep cook originally from Chihuahua, Mexico
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I learned to cook from life. When I lived in Mexico, I worked in a hotel with a restaurant. I would make the beds and from there I would run down to the restaurant. I would tell the chefs, "Hey, I'll help you clean the beans, I'll help you choose the rice." I watched from afar how the food was being prepared and wrote everything down. Then, I would run home and I would prepare what I learned. Later, the chef saw that he couldn't get rid of me and asked me to be his assistant. He started showing me how to cook, and I said "I found my place." I love cooking. It's my life. I came here because I'm a single mom and my daughter wanted to go to college. How would I pay for it? I had to find a way. I was in New York for 12 years, where I worked at two Burger Kings and a Wendy's as a cook. I came to Los Angeles because my daughter wanted to come here. She had already finished college. I started working at a Burger King here too. Then I worked at [a West Hollywood restaurant] as a prep cook for four years. I would prepare everything they sold at night. All the cook has to do is take out the trays we prepare to finish cooking and then the dish goes to the table. Things are already measured. People don't see the back of house staff who are marginalized. The people in the back do the most work. And we're the ones who receive the least. From there I went to [a restaurant in Downtown LA] where I stayed for another four years until the pandemic started. They let us go because there was no work. I'm now 54 years old. I don't even know how I did it. I lost my car. This one I'm driving is my brother's. I don't spend anything on food. Because everything they [No Us Without You] give us is useful. It helps us a lot. I'll be honest with you: I owe a month's rent because I can't handle everything. There was a time during the pandemic when I went to Dodger Stadium with my daughter to collect cans and we would sell them. That's how we paid the electric bill. Right now, I'm working at a restaurant three days a week making ceviche. I've learned another job! I know that one day I'll tell this story. I'm going to say, "I survived." What I thank God for the most is that I haven't become infected. The most important thing is that your family is united. The downtown restaurant called me to see if they can hire me again. My hobby is food prep, the smell of the vegetables. What I like most is learning new things every day: That's the beauty of a restaurant that always changes menus. I love it there because the chef told me, "You take care of the spices." The basil, thyme, rosemary, all that passed through these little hands. When I finish all my work and I say, "And now what am I going to do for myself?," I take my grandson and I go hiking up a mountain. When he no longer wants to walk, I have to carry him on my back until we get to the top. I try to go out where there aren't many people. I try to find a way to be myself. My dream is to set up a stall and sell ceviches. I would love that; it's my most precious dream. But it's just a dream.
Yo aprendí a cocinar de la vida. Cuando vivía en México, trabajé en un hotel con un restaurante. Yo arreglaba las camas y de ahí bajaba corriendo al restaurante. Les decía a los chefs, "Oye te ayudo a limpiar frijoles, yo te ayudo a escoger el arroz". Veía de lejos como preparaban la comida y apuntaba todo. Me iba corriendo para mi casa y yo preparaba lo que aprendía. Ya después vio el chef que no me podía sacar de la cocina y me preguntó si quería ser su ayudante. Él empezó a enseñarme la cocina y dije "De aquí soy". Me encanta la cocina. Esa es mi vida. Yo me vine aquí porque soy mamá soltera y mi hija quería sacar su universidad y ¿de dónde yo sacaba? Tenía que buscarle. Estuve en Nueva York 12 años. Trabajaba como cocinera en dos Burger Kings y un Wendy's. Me vine para Los Ángeles porque mi hija quería venirse. Ya había terminado la universidad. Empecé a trabajar en un Burger King aquí también. Después trabajé en un restaurante de West Hollywood como preparadora por cuatro años. Preparaba todo lo que vendían en la noche. El cocinero nada más saca de los trays que le ponemos nosotros para terminar de cocinar y va para la mesa. Ya están medidas las cosas. La gente no ve que los trabajadores de atrás son marginados. Las personas que están atrás son las que más hacen el trabajo. Y somos los que menos recibimos. Despues me fui a [un restaurante en el centro de Los Ángeles] donde estuve otros cuatro años hasta que empezó la pandemia. Nos despidieron a todos porque no había trabajo. Yo tengo ahorita 54 años. Ni yo sé cómo lo hice. Perdí el carro. Este carro es de mi hermano. No gasto nada en comida. Porque todo lo que ellos [No Us Without You] me dan me sirve. Nos ayuda mucho. Ahorita no te voy a mentir: debo un mes de renta porque no puedo con todo. Hubo una temporada durante la pandemia que me iba al estadio de los Dodgers con mi hija a recoger botes y los vendíamos. Con eso pagamos la luz. Ahorita voy a un restaurante, ahí me dan tres días de trabajo como cevichera. ¡Ya aprendí otro trabajo más! Yo sé que un día voy a contar esto. Voy a decir, "Sobreviví". Y lo que le doy más gracias a Dios es que no me he contagiado de nada. Lo principal es que tu familia esté unida. Ahorita me llamaron del restaurante en el centro para ver si me vuelven a contratar. Mi hobby es la preparación, el olor a las verduras. Lo que más me gusta es cada día aprender cosas. Eso es lo bonito de un restaurante que siempre cambia los menús. Me encantaba ese restaurante porque el chef me decía a mí, "Tú te encargas de los olores". La albahaca, el tomillo, el rosemary, todo eso pasaba por estas manitas. Cuando ya termino toda mi labor y digo, "¿Y ahora que voy a hacer para mí?", me llevo a mi nieto y me voy al cerro a caminar. Donde él ya no quiere caminar tengo que cargarlo en la espalda hasta que llegamos arriba. Trato la manera de salir donde no hay mucha gente. Trato la manera de ser yo. Mi sueño es poner un local y vender ceviches. Me encantaría; es mi sueño adorado. Pero eso es un sueño nada más.
Samanta Helou Hernandez is a multimedia journalist and photographer based in LA covering culture, identity, and social issues. Copy edited by Emily Safrin
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aveilus · 7 years
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Info about me
I was tagged by the wonderfull @trash-chan-art to do this.
Rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 10 blogs you would like to know better.
Warning: I'm not an english speaker so you may find some weird wording in there :3c
Here you have some useless info about me lol
Age: 20
Birthplace: Argentina
Current time: 2:08 a.m
Drink you last had: orange juice
Easiest person to talk to: my mom and brother
Favourite song: I change favourites often but the most recent are Dreamon Dreamer / Goatbed, Undying / The Gazette, Horizon / Miyavi, and a lot more tho
Grossest memory: when I was with my friends on my boyfriend's house and the pizza we ate made me vomit half of my organs lmao, I was in the bathroom probs half an hour suffering OTL
Hogwarts house: I don't really dig hp but whatever
In love: I suppose?
Jealous of people: in a healthy way, like: 'holy shit she has a beautiful hair!!' 'I can have mine like that some day'
Killed someone: insects count? Then no.
Love at first sight or should i walk by again?: I'm gonna be honest, I'm always distracted and may not see you, also I don't believe in love at first sight or idk.
Middle name: Stephanie
Number of siblings: one big brother and a little step sister.
One wish: to have a happy and fulfilling life, also work in the art industry
Person you called last: my father
Question you're always asked: can you lend me (clothe's name)? /My mom and I are the same size so we swap clothes often/
Reason to smile: ice cream exist!
Song you last sang: VERTUEUX - Soul Grace /I'm a weeb/
Time you woke up: 9:00 a.m
Underwear colour: White -so boring lol-
Vacation destination: Japan, USA, Europe, every place is a good destination!
Worst habit: I bite my fingernails when I'm bored, stressed or anxious.
X-rays: ???? I do have one of my ears from 3 years ago somewhere
Your favourite food: sushi, my grandma's tortafritas and my mom's tortilla de papas and pastel de papas!
Zodiac sign: Leo
@ you if you took your precious time to read about me <3
...I need to have more friends on tumblr orz
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cubansailorvenus · 7 years
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I've considered writing a Voltron fic and could you or Bobbie recommend any of your favorite Cuban dishes or snacks?
omg yes sure!!! you can google the following for recipes and visuals and stuff:
Pastelitos de guayaba ♥ ♥ 
CROQUETAS DE JAMON like catch me @ a cuban party downing the shit out of these like shots
Papa rellena 
Arroz imperial ((this is also an ultimate weakness of mine like every time i go back home my mom makes this as a welcoming food bc im WEAK))
Tortilla and no, it’s not like Mexican tortilla, Cuban tortilla is sort of a potato omelet that can be eaten with Cuban bread any time of the day, whether it’s for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, and ahhhh good good shit
Pan con bistec *this is the point where i’m getting hungry and crying and swooning over food that’s too far from me but im sticking through this ok bc i want to see my son eating more cuban food*
yuca con mojo, like mmmmm good garlicy slob for a side dish so so good
on a side note, earlier today my mom literally made yuca and mixed it with chicharron like…..mom…….how bored and hungry are you, you’re like a 55-y/o Cuban college student omf
Arroz congri!!! okay it’s rice with black beans, but this is cuban ok so shh
Ropa vieja is a good cuban classic ♥ yes, it means “old clothes” but it’s actually meaty goodness
we certainly have a way of calling food things ok
on a related note, look @ this video from an actual cuban about food we eat during nochebuena bc it’s useful since it has more cuban foods
…..yea we got a lot of good foods lol
EDIT- Also, a thing that we do that’s like, Exclusive Cuban: We eat bananas as a side dish.
eating pasta? peel a banana and put it on the plate
eating arroz congris y bistec? peel a banana and put it on the plate
this has weirded out a lot of non-cubans when we eat together but it’s the truth
so anyways, have lance weirding out ppl at the garrison commissary for eating a banana as a side dish
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touristguidebuzz · 7 years
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The Cow Head Taco Philosopher King of Oaxaca
It’s Wednesday and I realize with a start that I’m late again. I have a conference call in a few minutes, and I’m wandering deep in thought on the other side of town. More importantly, I completely forgot to eat. For a woman who writes about food for a living, this oversight is a counterintuitive but consistent affliction. Everything is blotted out when I am deep in a writing project or speech. Yes, even food. I walk around in a daze thinking wordy thoughts.
Pressed for time, I veer to the right hoping that my favorite cow head taco vendor has not packed up for the day. I arrive breathless, smiling, sweaty in the desert heat. Israel, my cabeza expert, smiles widely. “Hola Yeni,” he drawls with all the time in the world. He swings the heavy lid off a huge metal pot, shifting onto his right foot to absorb its weight as steam billows into the air. “¿Qué puedo servirle?” (What can I serve you?)
Israel’s taco restaurant consists of a tiny mobile stand with two stools facing a makeshift bar, propped up against the wheels. In addition to his metal pot, divided into quarters to separate the types of meat and the tortillas, he has a cooler filled with drinks and sauces. When he’s not parked, you wouldn’t know he was coming. The don’t call it tacos ambulantes (wandering tacos) for nothing.
As I half lean on a stool, blood sugar crashing, I catch an older man smiling at me from the corner of my eye. “Where are you from? And are you married?” he asks. “And where is your family? Are they here?” I open my mouth to try to answer his stream of questions but Israel cuts me off with a smile.
“Tranquilo,” he interjects. “Let her eat first.”
I wolf down the first of my tacos as both men eye me warily, perhaps wondering if I can breathe while eating that quickly. Once I wipe off the salsa with a paper napkin, I turn to the other diner and answer his questions.
Israel presides over our talk like a proud papa, looking from one of us to the other.
“Isn’t life grand?” he asks no one and everyone. We smile, then dip our heads to take another bite of our tacos.
Tacos de cabeza, surtidos style.
A Little About Those Cow Head Tacos
Much like dumplings in Asia, many different meats and cuts go into tacos in Mexico. In his book Planet Taco, Jeffrey Pilcher notes:
“People have been eating corn tortillas with bits of meat or beans rolled up inside of them for more than a millenium, but the taco achieved national hegemony only in the twentieth century. Traditionally, every region in Mexico had its own distinctive snack foods, collectively known as antojitos (little whimsies), formed in countless ingenious shapes and given a wide variety of local names.”
The now ubiquitous taco is a more modern usage for one of those antojitos. In the 1831 book El Cocinero Mexicano, a list of corn snacks like quesadillas and chilaquiles, also did not mention tacos. Per Pilcher, tacos-as-descriptor only became popular following the publication of Los banditos de Rio Frio (The Bandits of the Cold River) in 1891, which makes reference to children “skipping, with tacos of tortillas and avocado in their hand.” Though the expression was obviously used prior to publication, it was with this new book that it “quickly received official recognition,” says Pilcher, with attribution officially given to Mexico City.
In the case of cow head tacos a new world fusion: both beef and pork were Spanish imports. Jose Iturriaga notes in Las Cocinas de Mexico that cow head tacos originate from Bajio, in central Mexico. These days, they are quite popular there, in Sonora, and in the capital of Mexico City. But they’re also found elsewhere in Mexico, cooked with whatever local ingredients fit the bill.
For cow or pork head tacos, this means all of the parts of the head. When ordering, meats are usually split into maciza, which translates into “solid” meat, and can be anything from cheek, to lips, mouth, or neck of the cow. The second grouping is the offal, including eye, tongue, brains, sweetbreads, or machitos (beef intestines). I’m partial to both the maciza and the lengua, tongue tacos. A catch-all for a first foray into tacos de cabeza is surtido, a medley of meats mixed together.
Head meat tacos may sound extreme but they are gourmet-tasting cuts of meat. The tacos are richly textured, tender, and extraordinarily flavourful without being oily. Regardless of style, head tacos usually involve steaming the head overnight, then shredding the meat and adding it back to the pot in its own juice (called consommé).
Of course this is Mexico, so the beef isn’t simply steamed in a flavorless vat. Israel’s steamer includes achiote (annatto), avocado leaves, peppercorns, a variety of different chiles, bay leaves, and some other secret ingredients that he steadfastly keeps to himself. Once ordered, Israel dips into his giant metal steamer and doles out the beef tortillas, which he serves with cilantro, raw onions, a dollop of avocado paste, spicy salsa, and a lime wedge.
The finished product.
My Favourite Taco Philosopher in Oaxaca
When I first got to Oaxaca, I wandered the streets in wonder. After so many years in Asia, curiosity dictated that I eat at every single taco and quesadilla stand I could find that met my rules of eating street food safely. It is during this wander that I stumbled onto Israel’s stall. Originally from Puebla, he has lived in Oaxaca for 15 years, including part of his schooling. He studied both accounting and law — another Thrillable Hours contender? — and worked in accounting for several years following his graduation.
Why did this accountant start making tacos? In 2006, Oaxaca was engulfed in protests, and his entire office was temporarily suspended from work. Needing to feed his family, Israel learned how to make tacos and sell them in a wandering cart. He didn’t sell head tacos in those days. Instead, he focused on what he called “tacos de canasta ambulantes,” greasy chorizo and chicharrones tacos sold out of a basket. These are fried, rolled tacos that he made ahead of time and roamed the streets, selling to protesters who were camped out in the main square and elsewhere.
To his surprise, he made more as a taco vendor than as an accountant. So when the protests cleared and the situation in the city stabilized, he decided to keep selling tacos instead. “No way was I going back to an office,” he says, head thrown back with laughter.  He pauses, thoughtful. “But I had to change my tacos.”
It is this thoughtful pondering that makes Israel such a delight. When people come to his cart, he engages in small talk but often they come to him for advice and questions about their choices in life. In the case of his tacos, he switched to steamed head tacos, Sonora-style, because while slightly more expensive they are quite a bit healthier. “It just seemed wrong to make greasy tacos when I could make healthy tacos,” he adds with a shrug.
That’s just the kind of guy he is.
Tacos incoming! <3
I’m still eating tacos and chatting with my fellow diner on that rushed Wednesday when a woman comes running out of a building next to Israel’s cart. Impatient, she calls his name several times before he realizes that during tacos he missed his them calling his number at the government building next door. He scurries off quickly.
Israel turns to me with a sheepish grin and shrugs as if to say, “what can you do? There are tacos to be eaten.” I realize that I, too, ate my tacos and completely forgot about my own obligations.
I wolf down my head tacos, give Israel a quick hug, and rush home for my conference call.
A few days later, my stomach is in the mood for more tacos surtidos and I wander down to Israel’s stall. “Yeni!” he calls out from afar “I see you!”.
Giggling, I push myself onto one of his high stools and order some tacos. A man looking to be in his mid-40s stops in, eyeing me with curiosity. He gives Israel a shrug and slides onto one of the plastic stools in front of the cart.
“Isn’t life grand?” Israel says.
“I am pretty angry today,” the new arrival admits. He glances over at me quickly, unsure if I understand Spanish.
“Oh that’s Yeni,” Israel quickly interjects. “She lives here too.”
The man nods slowly.
“Well,” Isreal continues. “Life is great when your heart is calm. Otherwise life is not great.”
We eat our tacos in silence, thinking about Israel’s words. Almost every time I’ve found him on the streets of Oaxaca, his clients have come by with their life’s troubles, waiting for a word from this head taco philosopher that will put it all in perspective.
We finish our tacos together and Israel takes the other customer’s money first, looking him in the eye. “Remember. You will be in trouble because anger will corrupt your view of the world. The good things in life will become reasons to be angry too. You need to be calm and happy in your heart. The rest will follow.”
The man leaves and Israel turns my way, face cracking into a huge smile.
“You too, Yeni! Don’t worry, though, with tacos in your stomach, it is much easier to be calm and happy in your heart.”
Israel, holding chia water and wearing a ch-ch-ch-Chia shirt — having no idea that it was an ad in North America. Oaxaca grows a lot of chia seeds, and they’re used in lemon water, chocolate, and more.
Part of my joy in getting to know my new home of Oaxaca has been to learn the stories of the people behind the foods I love. I hope you enjoyed this bit about Israel!
More to come soon.
-Jodi
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