Growing up, and to this day, I call them empanadillas. I spent summer after summer visiting my family in Cabo Rojo, where both of my parents were born, so for me, that’s simply what they’ve always been called. Funny enough, pastelillo is something completely different to me. It wasn’t until my adult years that I realized there was a friendly debate amongst us. But the other day, on some other post, one of you reminded me of something that genuinely made me chuckle (and I loved). She stated that she calls them whatever the person cooking them calls them. Because whether it’s empanadilla or pastelillo, who cares, as long as we get to eat them. And can I say, she’s so right! After all, greatness still tastes like greatness, no matter what you call it. ❤️ ...

For those of us who need to know why before we know how, settle in. Class is in session.

Beneath this silly line, this series is personal to me. The deeper I’ve explored my own food, my culture, and my family’s legacy, the more curious I’ve become about how it got here, who shaped it, and why it became what it is today.

It’s become very apparent that I want to preserve both. For me, knowing something’s roots, giving credit where it belongs, and keeping its history in conversation is part of honoring it. After all, generations of people shaped these foods before they ever reached me, and understanding that lineage feels like part of my responsibility in carrying them forward.

So, I hope this series nudges you to see your food with greater depth. Perhaps it’s the ramen whose story runs deeper than the broth it sits in. Maybe it’s the tamale whose very construction tells a story of survival. Or it’s the curry you’ve eaten your entire life without ever asking where it comes from.

I don’t know. Something about all of this speaks to me, and I hope it speaks to you too.

Further reading + sources:

Eating Puerto Rico: A History of Food, Culture, and Identity — Cruz Miguel Ortiz Cuadra

La imperiosa necesidad del bacalao: Puerto Rico y Terranova en la Ecología-Mundo — Manuel Valdés Pizzini (@manuelvaldespizzini) ...

Oh, we know… so, let’s just call this a little Hispanic Heritage Month reminder for those that don’t. 🤭

Which others ones should we include that I didn’t list? ...

After I-don’t-know-how-many failed attempts, comparisons to my aunt’s recipe (after all, they both learned from my grandma), and calls to my cousin, who often watched my mom cook closely—thank God for that—I think I finally nailed it.

I often say nothing will ever be as good as my mom’s, but through this process, I’m starting to believe that maybe it can be done. What this journey has also taught me is that recovering her recipes means learning not to rewrite them in the way I mostly cook today. Otherwise, I’d be doing a pretty terrible job of preserving her food history.

Here are her habichuelas guisadas. These over some white rice will not disappoint. Save this recipe and definitely give it a try.

With love, from me and my mom (who I am sure is watching 🥹). ...