A Dance in the Kitchen

A memory of more than just food

There aren't many photos of my grandpa, but I was able to find this picture of my grandpa and grandma eating what they cooked together.

As a second generation Paraguayan-American, cooking and eating traditional foods are some of the rare occasions I connect to my culture. Nothing will make me feel more in touch with my culture than eating sopa de poroto, or bean soup, because of a very special childhood memory.

One thing about my childhood that I mourn is my relationship with my grandparents, or lack thereof. When I was younger, and my family was able to afford the trips to Paraguay, I was able to speak Spanish, but my grandparents mostly spoke Guaraní, the country’s native language. We never spoke to each other, or even really spent time together. I mean, I was a kid, I only ever wanted to play with my cousins.

But one day, I couldn’t find anything to do and my cousins weren’t around. When I went outside, I saw my grandpa sitting in the garden with a huge bucket of green beans in his lap. His shaky, aged hands carefully peeled the skin and he’d gently push the inside beans into another bucket he had by his feet. I remember watching him and being so curious, without asking to help, I walked over and started doing the same.

As usual, we didn’t exchange words, we just peeled the green beans together in silence. But this was the first time we spent time together, it felt so intimate. It felt so special. I can still remember the feeling of the slimy beans still wet after being cut from their green cocoon. Once the bucket was filled and there were no more green beans to peel, we brought them into the kitchen.

I cleaned the beans as he sliced green and red peppers. I peeled the potatoes as he chopped the tomatoes. I cut the squash as he minced the onions. We were practically dancing in the kitchen. Laughing and smiling, moving from counter to counter, rhythmically preparing ingredients. With no words we had a perfect flow.

Despite Paraguay’s blistering hot temperatures, my family always ate sopa de poroto because we had all the ingredients in our garden. My grandpa and I topped it with cheese and served it with rice. Enjoyed our meal we worked so hard for and watched our family enjoy it too.

That was the last time I visited Paraguay and the last time I saw my grandpa before he passed away this year. Sopa de poroto doesn’t really taste the same without his special touch, but I will always have the memory of our dance.