Tastes like home

Tastes like home ?????

Anna Lee Mraz Bartra. Peninsula 360 Press

It's no surprise that one of the seven deadly sins is gluttony. There are few things in life as delicious as the sensations generated by a good meal. 

The sound of cork, popThe acidic aroma of wood and earth, which lets out the sour scent of wood and earth, anticipates what is to come: glu glu sounds the reddish liquid that lives up to the name of its colour as it escapes from the bottle and crashes against the edges of the glass. It rises and falls and bubbles. The once subtle aroma envelops you. The first sip always generates an explosion of emotions from the palate. The burst runs through your body. 

What do you feel first? It can be tranquility, your lungs fill with air as if the first bite, the first gulp, gives you permission to do so after a day of work. It can be relief when your body cries out for relief from that pit in your stomach and, you find something pleasant that surprises you favorably. You might feel a complete revulsion that, in front of others, you hide in a friendly smile. The possibilities are endless with an unfamiliar dish in front of you. It's an adventure. 

Almost every sound, aroma, colour and taste coming from the kitchen links to the past, cements in the present or produces dreams of the future. 

Recently, one morning in a rush to work, I walked into a breakfast and donut restaurant on Veterans Boulevard called Homeskillet. I waited patiently for my turn and as I did, I overheard them talking Spanish to each other in the kitchen: ?Ponle queso? cheddarthe order carries souvenirSo far I had spoken English with the person taking the order, but when I heard this I went over to ask in Spanish, "What is the sandwich shown in the picture? I pointed to the picture. A woman with a genuine smile and a crease of epicanthus in her eyes answered me kindly in English.

Cuisine would be nothing without this clash and syncretism of cultures. Potatoes, originally from Peru, saved Europe from famine in the early 20th century. And that morning they accompanied my Omelette sandwich, avocado, bacon and cheese spilling over the edges of the Sourdough bread, proudly produced in the San Francisco Bay Area.

About this, and more, I will write my column periodically. 

I will write about the flavors that can be found on the Peninsula and who creates those flavors, I will write about the food that we migrants miss and what we do to reproduce it here, far from our land. Restaurants in the area are on notice, here we will sample and scrutinize their dishes. 

I am Anna Lee Mraz Bartra, sociologist by training, feminist by principle and cook by love. 

Cooking is an act of love.