Memoir. My first Paella

“Be good and grateful. I love you so much”, my mum told me before she left me there.I was seven years old when I moved to Magdalena del Mar, to that big and three-story house with white walls and tile flooring from which rooftop I could see and smell the sea. Compared to my old and dowdy home this house looked like a palace for me. I had to stay with those women I didn't know but with whom I would have to live thereafter. They were three unmarried Spanish sisters who came to Peru sent by their parents before the imminent defeat of the Franco regime in Spain. That was how Spain came into my life, so suddenly and without asking. Miss Ana Maria welcomed me with a smile on her chubby and pale face, she seemed very happy to have me there, after all, I was there to help her. She always told me that I looked like the little Nestor and that I should never forget about him. Nestor was my father. He passed away before I could have memories of him and apparently, he lived with them when he was my age, she remembered him very fondly so I imagine that he was a very cool guy. Miss Ana Maria and her sisters always were kind with me, however I never felt as part of the family. I had strict restrictions since the first day, I couldn’t go out and play with the other children so I stayed always at home and couldn't eat candies or chocolate like other children because they told me candies were bad for my teeth. I never felt like a child living there, but I had to be grateful after all. In that house I met Anita, who lived there since she lost all her family being a little girl. I spent most of the time with her, we shared a room in the third floor. She was like my older sister, and taught me everything she knew.

From the moment I put my feet in that house, I only remember my childhood steeped in Spanish flavor. Extremadura crumbs, paella, Madrilean stew, marzipans, churros with chocolate, lentils with chorizo and all kinds of dishes that Miss Ana Maria prepared for the family and for Anita and me. It was so different from my mum’s food... Mom was not a professional cook but had been working in many restaurants as a cook since she was young. She made the most delicious dishes I remember. Her delicious Pachamanca made on an earthen oven was my favorite. Mum used to prepare this dish when the family came to visit us, they rarely did it, so it was considered a big event. My family gathered in my dad’s roofless and untidy woodwork workshop in which nobody worked since he died. Everybody worked as a group, my uncles dug a hole in the earth as my mum and my aunts were in the kitchen seasoning the meat while listening to huayno, an Andean joyful music very loud. My mom put  lamb, mutton, pork and chicken marinated in spices as well as, potatoes, green lima beans, sweet potatoes, yuca, and ears of corn,tamales and chili, everything together in the earthen oven with heating stones, in that way, all the flavours are mixed. My sisters Gabriela and Irene always asked for a fork to eat the Pachamanca, but my brother Juan and I were more practical and used our fingers. These moments with my mom and my older siblings were limited. As I can recall mom worked very hard every day since my dad died, but when she didn’t, she endeavored to prepare her best dishes. We could not afford those fancy meals prepared by Miss Ana Maria, but my mom gave everything, often with very little, to see us grow happily. I was very happy living there but I knew things were not going well. That is why I understood her reasons without she explained to me, I did not blame her for not spending time with me and even less for leaving me there.

With Miss Ana Maria I learned a lot about the art of cooking. She was a famous cook in her young age. She had a business of paellas. I remember the first time I helped her to make a seafood paella. I liked helping. I was very restless, and the worst they could tell me was that I stay seated. They knew it from the first time I arrived at the house, I wanted to see everything and try everything, so they always kept me busy.

That day, everybody in the house woke up early. The doorbell rang. It was a man bringing vegetables and seafood for the paella. Miss Ana Maria only used first quality products to prepare her dishes and payed a lot of money for them. She had promised me I could help her to prepare the paella so there I was, eager for her to tell me what to do, watching them carefully until they got nervous and I was sent to do something. “ Go to the kitchen and help Anita”, Ana Maria said. I ran into the kitchen but Anita was not there. I remember that day as it was yesterday. Something made a sound in the sink, I approached, there was a white bag with something moving. I did not dare touch it but wanted to know what it was. The smell coming from the bag was unpleasant and nauseating. Anita entered the kitchen. She must have noticed the horror on my face because she laughed mockingly. She went straight to the sink and washed her hands. Then she took the bag and opened it without a second thought. They were two red spiders with huge claws, larger than my own fingers. They were horrible, they were really ugly. Anita took a knife, the biggest one in the kitchen drawer and with the other hand grabbed one of those spiders.”They're crabs, do not panic. Come here and see” she said. I approached, but kept a considerable distance, just in case one of those beasts dared to jump. Pointing the tip of the knife in the thorax of the crab said, “ if you remove this part of the crab it dies” while explaining to me, she struck the crab killing it quickly. I stared intently watching the crab until it stopped moving its horrible legs suddenly. Then, Anita put the crabs in a pot of boiling water that had prepared above the stove. I felt so bad for them, really bad. After that, Anita asked me to help to  peel the pea and garlics but I couldn't stop thinking about the poor crabs. Anita cut the peppers, onion and garlic, and prepared the seafood as she listened and hummed to cumbia playing on the radio. When she finished chopping the vegetables she put them in separate Tupperware containers, to make the work easier for Miss Ana Maria. Miss Ana Maria, wearing an apron and a white hat came into the kitchen. She looked very funny, but I could not laugh, it would be disrespectful. Miss Ana Maria ordered Anita to turn off the radio and to put on her Sevillanas CD, a smile drawn on her face whilst listening. She began preparing the paella. I watched everything she did carefully from the window of the kitchen. She sprayed a little oil on the paellera then put the onions and green and red peppers finely chopped until they were poached. You could see her experience, her passion when you saw her cooking, it looked like she had a great respect for each of the ingredients. After stirring the rice, she grabbed the pot with broth crabs and added it until it covered the rice. The broth bubbled, now yellow from the saffron. The paella was ready. It looked like the Spanish flag, yellow as the rice and red for the red pepper and crabs decorating it. The smell of the paella was so strong that it permeated my clothes. It was a new smell. I had not tasted food that had that smell. I wanted to try “ Can I try some?” I asked Anita. “ No, Mirtha, that food is not for you.” I was disappointed, I did not understand very well because I could not try, it was unfair. I helped and she did not even give me a little to try. I later overheard Miss Ana Maria on the phone, talking with one of her customers about a paella order and the price. Now I understood everything, I could not afford the price nor the smallest bit of the food. Paellas was for rich people. Not for me.