This week's Poet of the People is Loli Molina Munoz. Loli openly shares her otherliness and in the sharing becomes one of us. Diaspora of a Spanish Tortilla (Recipe and Poem); is exquisitely simple in telling complex emotions.
IT’S THANKSGIVING AND I AM NOT AMERICAN
It’s Thanksgiving and I’m not American.
I have cooked turkey, mashed potatoes,
collard greens, cranberry sauce, and stuffing.
My husband has dressed up the house
with fall colors and he is not American.
A friend has come to share this rainy
day and he is not American.
The dog is staring at us hoping to
get some table food and he is not American.
We have toasted and remembered some
old friends who are not American.
We are thankful for having each other
and we are not American.
I HAVE AN ACCENT
I have an accent
When I go to the grocery store
and they ask me if I found everything I needed
I answer “yes”
they say: you have an accent!
This accent is my grandmother’s sewing for the rich
and waiting from my grandfather to return from Venezuela.
When I order a tall decaf coffee with milk
and I spell my name
they say: you have an accent!
This accent is my mother’s cleaning houses
so I could fly abroad and improve my English.
When I read a poem
and your faces change trying to understand
what I say and
you think: she has an accent!
This accent is their braided hands delivering the fruit
that I will place in your still empty basket.
THE GOOD DISHES
“But they are grounded
in their God and their families
they are grounded in their hearts and minds.”
-Nikki Giovanni
my mother keeps the
good dishes in an old
cabinet after fifty
years hoping I have
them someday, she also
holds onto a coffee
set and a quilt she
made before she got
married, your dowry
she says while she shows
one of her few smiles
buried in a deep wide
hole digged by my father
covered with her dreams
and my nightmares
long lasting nightmares
my mother possesses
the first and the last
of my days, the
first and the last of
my nights, the fist
and the last of
my
thoughts.
ON ALL SAINTS DAY
Don’t leave me.
Those were your last
words.
And we left you.
We closed the door
and we went home.
Your eyes were begging for more
time with us, more time alive.
But we left you
abuela Lola.
And the morning after
you were gone.
And the memories became
a attempt to order the chaos.
My chaos.
Diaspora of a Spanish Tortilla
(Recipe and poem)
I
Ingredients for 4 people
2 cups of Spanish extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons of Spanish extra-virgin olive oil
1 pound of potatoes
6 eggs
Salt
II
My mothers tells me it’s time to go to bed before the Three Wise Men come with the presents. I have to cook the tortilla for them, she says, and I think it’s not fair I don’t get to taste the mixture before being cooked. I close my eyes and I think about the smell of the potatoes and the eggs before jumping into the pan.
III
Heat 2 cups of olive oil in a medium pan, slowly fry the potatoes until beautiful golden brown. Drain the potatoes on a paper towel.
IV
It’s 1997 and I am an exchange student in Coventry, England. The first week someone organizes a party at our house. I don’t remember who. It wasn’t me. Everyone brings something for their countries. I cooked tortilla the same way my mother taught me. We eat, we drink, and we sing songs that we all know.
V
Beat the eggs in a bowl with 1 teaspoon of salt. Add the cooked potatoes to the beaten eggs and let stir for 1 minute.
VI
Last night I went early to bed as my mother told me and this morning Melchior came home with a present for me. It was the doll I wanted. Her tortilla must have been really good this year.
VII
Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a 6-inch pan over high heat. Once the oil is hot, pour the egg-potato mixture and reduce the heat to low.
VIII
Last week I cooked a tortilla for lunch and he smiled when he saw it. This is so good, he said. You are even better, I thought.
IX
Once it begins to set and the edges turn golden brown, place a plate over the pan and flip the pan and the plate so the tortilla ends up on the plate, uncooked side down.
X
Wisconsin was cold, too cold for a Southern Spaniard used to the sun and the scent of the Mediterranean. Someone asked me to make a tortilla but this time it didn’t flip right. I had to go back to Spain.
XI
Once the tortilla set, flip the tortilla again and transfer to a platter. Season with salt and cut into wedges to serve.
XII
In 2006 my mother confessed that she never cooked tortilla for the Three Wise Men. I was so disappointed that I cried. I was 32. I was 32 and I cried. And I never stopped making tortillas.
Bio
Loli Molina Muñoz is a Spanish teacher in Lexington, SC, with a Phd in Modern Languages. Her poetry has appeared in different Spanish and American publications and anthologies like VoZes, Label Me Latin and Jasper Fall Lines. In 2019, she published an essay on gender and sex identity in feminist science fiction as part of an anthology called Infiltradas. This anthology was awarded as Best Essays Anthology by the Spanish Science Fiction Society Awards in 2020.