How I became Puerto Rican and Proud

There is something beautiful about being a part of a bigger picture, something holy about it. It could be a religion, culture, group of mom's, being blond, it doesn't matter, being a part of a group gives you a social couch to sit in.  I am Irish, or so that is what I say. I am quite sure I am actually more English than Irish, but what can you do if your English? Boil chicken? I am not saying there is anything wrong with being English, it just doesn't have that "je ne sais quoi?"

So I have claimed Irish. I eat potatoes, I have heard of mash and I am a proud lover of dark beer, although I must admit I have never even tasted a Guinness.  So I am a part of that group, Irish, we get a parade, a day, a drink, a color and with the middle name O'Brien, (my mother's maiden name), I have total ownership.

There is this other side of me, a side that most people might not know about me. I am 1/4 married-Puerto Rican, oh but yes, this blond hair, green eye, white girl is 1/4 married PR. My dad's wife, my step-mom is Puerto Rican, and with that, I claim it. The reason I claim it is because it has become a part of my life, it is a part of my speak, my food and my language.  I don't have the skin or blood to prove it, but get me going and my 100% Puerto Rican voice, gestures and pointer finger will rear its boisterous head.  My family sees it.  My mom will say "you just became your step-mom right them" or Cody will say "you just made a Grandma Burge face" and I know I did. I say I channel her at times and I am just fine with that, it is a part of me.

A while back my step-mom came to my house and taught me how to make Puerto Rican rice and beans.  She also taught me how to make the sofrito, a spice/vegetable mixture that is used in different foods.  It was on that day that I was placed within the ranks of other Puerto Ricans who learn passed down family recipes.  A dish like rice and beans and the way it is made must be taught, not just told. You have to be taught the way it looks when the rice swirls in the pan when the water is added and know exactly how salty the water must be when you taste it.  It is a right, it is a ritual, it is a tradition that I now own.

Whenever you go to a party at a Puerto Rican's home, they will have the red rice and beans. Making "the rice" for a party is a responsibility of sorts, it is a responsibility to "make the rice."  You can hear it when it is eaten, "damn Jackie, this rice turned out perfect!" or "I don't know, I think I may have turned it to soon" or "I don't like the way it turned out, I didn't have my pan."

Rice and beans is more than food on a table, it is a tradition.  When I make rice and beans for my family, my rice, beans and tomato sauce is on the counter all day to remind me to start it in time for dinner.  It is an hour long event, that starts with the right amount of oil and ends with tasting it to see how I did this time.  When I serve it to my family, I wait, I wait to hear the "mmmmm mom, your rice turned out great" because if it doesn't, I have failed, and I need to recount what I did wrong, or different.

Excuse me, I have to go turn my rice....

I am a part of quite a few different "bigger pictures," it makes me a part of something larger than me, it makes me a part of traditions, foods, clothes, parades and languages.

I took my rice to a luncheon where we had to bring a dish. The women loved it and a few of them asked for the recipe, I giggled and said, "it is kind of weird, you almost need to see me make it." I don't know if I was being protective of the recipe, but maybe I was, maybe I didn't want to let them in the club. 

My rice is going to be done in a few minutes, I think I put in too much oil in it, but I will have to wait and see. Tradition is a funny thing, it comes to you via another generation and then it is your responsibility to cherish it, to nurture it and to pass it down.  My 11 year old, Skylar asked to help make the rice with me tonight, she didn't ask to help till I was adding the rice so there wasn't going to be any passing of the baton today, but soon there will be.  I don't know if my rice is good enough to call true Puerto Rican rice, but I try.

I may be English and Irish but that 1/4 Puerto Rican is in there to. I may not know the language, but I have my rice and beans.  My skin is white as can be and I can't dance to Hector Lavoe like they can, but  hopefully tonight when making dinner I channeled Susan, cause if I don't, it's not going to be as good!