As a multicultural and biracial familia, I was pretty clear about wanting to raise a bilingual child. Ah yes! It would be simple! I would speak to our child in Spanish and my husband would speak to him in English. Sound familiar? Yes, we were going to use the OPOL (One Parent One Language) method. However, things are not always as easy as they seem, right? You see, I had the desire but not a plan. I fell into the comfort of just speaking to our baby in English from the day he was born. After all, everyone spoke in English too!

During our son’s 4-year-old annual check-up, his pediatrician excitedly asked, “Is he bilingual?” Those three words weighed heavily on me. Other than counting his numbers and the basic colors that he learned from Dora in Spanish, no, he wasn’t bilingual. That’s when reality hit me! I started to panic! Literally to panic! I felt that the precious years for my baby to learn another language from birth to 5 was quickly slipping through my fingers. What was I going to do? Was it too late?

I started to strategize and make a plan. I started slowly by using the Language Boundary method from the book 7 Steps to Raising a Bilingual Child by Naomi Steiner. In this method, you use the target language during a specific situation, such as, time of day, location, or depending on an activity. I used this method during our bedtime story–speaking and reading to him in Spanish and then translating into English.

Then I had the opportunity to enroll him in a weekly preschool Spanish language immersion program. He was learning Spanish with other monolingual children his same age. He was excited and eager to learn Spanish. This is when I went into full Spanish-speaking mode with my child. At home, I started using the OPOL method. We read books, sang songs and played games, all in Spanish. I created opportunities for our child to speak Spanish, such as volunteering at his preschool summer camp a Spanish-language program and he was my little assistant. We also had the opportunity to spend two weeks in Puerto Rico during the summer immersed in a 100% Spanish environment.

Today I reflect on this past year and our journey into bilingualism. Looking back my only regret was not having started his language learning sooner. Nevertheless, speaking from my own personal experience, I can tell you that it’s never too late to start your child’s language learning.

My now 5-year-old speaks and understands Spanish very well. His language learning is still a work in progress, but if someone asks, “Is he bilingual?” I can happily respond, “Yes, he is!”

Frances is a part-time blogger, mommy and wife of a beautiful multicultural familia. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration with a certification in Human Resources. She blogs about heritage, culture, bilingualism, multicultural children’s books, and discovering the world through her son’s eyes. You can follow her at Discovering The World Through My Son’s Eyes.

{Photo by Que ma en}

My wife, my son and I spent the weekend with my family. Along with my parents, some other relatives came and stayed as well. It was a great time filled with food, laughs and trips down memory lane. Naturally, questions arose about our son and how we speak to him in Spanish. One interesting question I was asked is stated was “What are you going to do when he speaks half English half Spanish sentences?”

This caught me a little off guard. I just immediately responded “We will encourage him and tell him he is the best little talker in the world.” I wasn’t really sure what other kind of answer could possibly be given. It got me thinking though… people who don’t understand bilingualism, well, don’t understand bilingualism. They see it as a ‘problem’ if the child code switches or goes through a transitional phase where they mix up languages; English grammar with Spanish words or vice-a-versa.

The reality is that there is nothing wrong with that.

The follow-up question was along the lines of “You are going to be the only one who understands him.” I can see their point with regards to the communication issues, and perhaps this is a proverbial bridge we will cross, however this is hardly a deterrent from choosing the bilingual lifestyle. Difficulties will most likely present themselves, and these difficulties will lead to new opportunities to learn and grow as a family. Will my English-only parents be confused at times when we are talking as a family or they are trying to talk to my son? Probably. Will it be that big of a deal? No. Frankly, I’m confused about half of the time I’m talking to children anyway.

Our little guy will learn to figure it out. He will grow, develop, and home in on who speaks what language, when and to what degree. In fact, this may happen sooner than later! A recent post of mine talks about how bilingual children start deciding which language is which as early as six or seven months old! This is the beauty of children growing up with two or more languages; they just get it. They learn very quickly what they need to do to be understood. They have to, really, as they don’t have a whole lot of other options!

Has anyone else experienced these types of questions or comments? What was the situation and how did you respond? Comment below and share your experience.

Jeffrey Nelson blogs about being bilingual, raising bilingual children, and all things bilingual at Living Bilingual.com . He and his wife, Gyovanna, are currently raising their 11-month old child, Liam, as a bilingual in English/Spanish. Jeff loves the fact that his son will grow up bilingual and bicultural, a long way removed from his own past growing up in North Dakota; the antithesis of the bicultural childhood.

{Photo courtesy of Jeffrey Nelson}

Imagine we could survey every bilingual adult in the world and ask them two questions.

Question #1: Do you regret becoming bilingual?

What do you think the response would be?

Of course, it wouldn’t be unusual for people to mention how hard it was, at times, during childhood: keeping up with two languages, perhaps with twice the homework; suffering episodes of embarrassment when speaking the minority language in public; and enduring other difficulties. A few of the respondents, it’s true, might even answer, “Yes, I regret it. It was just too much trouble.”

But my guess is that the percentage of people responding “No, I don’t regret becoming bilingual” would be very, very high. Despite those struggles of childhood, I bet it would be well over 99%.

Question #2: If you hadn’t become bilingual, is it something you would have regretted?

If we then turned the question around and asked people to imagine how they would feel if they hadn’t become bilingual, what sort of response would you expect? Though there might be a handful who express no regret, wouldn’t most people feel just the opposite? Wouldn’t most people, over 99% once again, express real regret at not becoming bilingual?

Here’s my point: Your gurgling baby, or your growing child, may not be aware of this yet, but they want to be bilingual! And they will regret it if they don’t become bilingual! That’s the truth, and you have to keep that fact in mind throughout your bilingual journey together.

It’s particularly important to remember this during those tougher times, like when your child seems to rebel and refuses to speak the minority language with you. When these difficulties arise, it’s natural to feel discouraged, but you can’t let yourself get trapped in that moment. You have to think bigger than the resistance at hand.

Tell yourself: “Yes, my child, I know it’s hard sometimes. But I also know that deep down, in the adult that lies within you, you really do want to be bilingual and you would regret it one day if you weren’t. So I will continue to support the development of your minority language with all the patience and persistence and perseverance that this tired old parent can manage.”

And you go on. And you do the best you can, day after day, while you have the chance. Because, finally, you know you’re not the only one who wants your child to be bilingual.

Your child wants to be bilingual, too.

Adam Beck is the blogger of Bilingual Monkeys, the home of “ideas and inspiration for raising bilingual kids (without going bananas).” Based in Hiroshima, Japan, he is a former teacher at Hiroshima International School and now a writer for the Hiroshima Peace Media Center. Adam is the father of two children who are bilingual in English and Japanese. You can also find Adam on Twitter and Facebook.

Last Sunday July 28, Peru celebrated its 192^nd Independence Day. In Peru, the celebrations extend from the 28 to the 30. This period is known as Fiestas Patrias and most people take these days off. There is a big military parade broadcast on TV and the Peruvian flag is hung everywhere. Although we are far from there, I still want my kids to know about my culture and somehow live the experience of Fiestas Patrias. So I had this idea to start teaching G {L knows some things already since we’ve been celebrating for a couple of years now} about Peru by having a little “28 de Julio” play date.

We invited some Peruvian and Colombian friends and their little ones over and celebrated together. I know the kids are still young and may not understand much of what’s going on, but to be surrounded by Spanish-speaking people, especially Peruvians, talking about our country, food, customs, it just felt like being home away from home. We had such a great time.

I wanted to put together a little table commemorating this special date for my country. Red and white are the colors of our flag. I used things I already had {I have a big closet full of party stuff!} and just went to a neighboring town to get some Peruvian treats.

G stood in front of the banner and spelled “PERU”. I told him, it says “Peru”. And he responded “Pedu”. So cute.

I got some Peruvian “golosinas”, and of course, I had to get some Inca Kola and chicha morada. I also made some “gelatina” {jello} which is a very common dessert in Peru.

I had some lucuma powder in my pantry. Lucuma is a Peruvian tropical fruit. We use it mostly for desserts but now it’s gaining more popularity as a super food, the same as quinoa. I tried to bake some Paleo Lucuma Chocolate Chip muffins, tweaking this recipe I found online. The muffins turned out really good, and healthy, but you could barely taste the lucuma flavor. Next time I’ll use more lucuma powder. I also served some fruit and some pita chips. I had to balance all the Peruvian sweets and treats somehow!

My good friend M brought some “alfajores”, “rosquitas” {it’s been ages since I had those} and the cutest flag cookies. Another friend brought a “turrón de doña pepa” and a “causa rellena” {I forgot to take pictures}. We even forgot to eat them during the play date {we were so busy chatting and playing}. But I had some ”causa” after, and it was delicious!

For favors, I used some red and white striped paper bags that I adorned with a circle tag featuring a girl and a boy with some typical clothes from the Andes of Peru. Inside there were some crayons, a little treat and a little card I printed with the Peruvian flag for the kids to color.

As for activities to keep the little ones entertained, I printed some coloring pages I found online, with Peru’s map and other “símbolos patrios”. We also had an impromptu story time. We read some Spanish books and sang songs in Spanish, too.

The kids {and the moms} had a great time. It was very nice to be able to share and hang out with fellow Peruvian moms, since I don’t know many around. Hopefully this will be a tradition we follow every year. Hope all my Peruvian family and friends had a Feliz 28!

Nadia is a Peruvian wife and mom living in New York with her American husband and two boys. She moved to the United States in 2005 and has made one of her missions in life to raise her children to be bilingual and pass on her cultural heritage. She is an architect, designer and blogger. She is also founder of mamemima, an interior and event styling for kids studio. On her blog, at the same name, mamemima, she writes about decor, design, crafts, motherhood, bicultural identity and of course bilingualism.

My very active 83-year-old aunt called me a few minutes ago to ask me to accompany her to one of her multiple events. She is from Ecuador and has been living in San Francisco for about 65 years, since she came to the U.S. for college. She got married with an Italian-American guy and had four children. Her children live around the Bay Area and except for one of them, who learned Spanish in college; they speak only a few words in Spanish.

My aunt is from a time when people wanted to melt in and so, even though she and her kids traveled on vacations back to Ecuador, she did not speak Spanish at home and they did not attend immersion or bilingual schools in San Francisco. I grew up in Ecuador and attended a bilingual Spanish-English school there.

After going to college in Brazil, I came to San Francisco for what was going to be a short stay, and 22 years later, I still find myself here with two kids, a house and an American husband. When I first arrived to San Francisco, I lived with my aunt for three months and got a chance to reacquaint myself with her. I remember thinking how much the first 18 years of a person’s life really mark the essence of who they are. Though she has lived in San Francisco for so long and has many American trait — like the fact that she is always on-time as opposed to the Ecuadorian tardiness — her personality and essence are still very Ecuadorian. Aside from the fact that my aunt wants company to the event, I think that she likes to speak in Spanish with me, and likes to tell me about her life and friends from Ecuador, with whom she is still in touch.

Though I have always considered myself a very nationalist Ecuadorian, when I first arrived to the U.S., I wanted to experience everything from the American perspective. I went to live with American roommates, worked for Oracle and interacted with people from around the world, etc… and then married an American from Anglo ancestry.

As the years went by, I began to miss my roots and tried to become acquainted with more Spanish speaking friends. When I got pregnant with my daughter Isabela, who is now 10 years old, I was certain I was going to speak with her in Spanish. I wanted to give her the benefit of being bilingual and hoped that would lead to biculturalism.

After she was born, I stopped working to take care of her. Speaking to her in my own language was so natural to me that I could have not done it otherwise. As I discovered her personality and loved not only the beautiful baby she was, but the personality of the vivacious, caring and creative person she is, I wanted for her to experience and understand my roots and who I was as well.

The second year of her life I went to live for almost the whole year in Ecuador (my husband came to visit every couple of months). Spanish became her first language and the surroundings that I grew up with hers. We returned to live in San Francisco, and I have tried to keep Spanish as the language between me and the kids as much as possible. Even at the park when we’ve met with non-Spanish speaking friends, I have continued only speaking Spanish to my kids (even if I looked crazy).

Because they were fluent Spanish speakers at the time they started school (my daughter and now my son), we decided to put them in a public Mandarin immersion school. To maintain the kids Spanish and their understanding and relationship to the culture, we go to Ecuador for two months every year. My kids love going to Quito, the city I grew up in, and to the same beach area I used to go to when I was a child.

I can only hope that when I get old, my daughter will want to accompany me to some event I may have, but I am sure I that when I call her I will be able to speak with her in Spanish.

{Photo by photon_den}

{Photos courtesy of Amy Conroy}

Editor’s note: This is Part 7 in a continuing series by Amy Conroy. To read the other parts, go here. 

“Finally, it’s over!”, said by the same homebody 5-year-old who requests leave of Disneyland after a few hours. Oh sweetheart, it’s only just begun!

True, it was relieving to come home after living in Mexico for four months. There is nothing like coming home, and the water here is so clean and plentiful! BUT, we are going back. I am determined to capitalize on this period of our life, when we are not too committed to sports’ teams, my children’s minds are malleable, and making friends happens over shared bubbles in the park. I know it is impossible to keep it this simple for long.

But coming home was funny, and the first 24 hours paint the picture well: after 6 hours of travel with 3 young children and a puppy, we arrived to our LA home around 2 a.m. Wired with excitement, each member of our family fully embraced their quirky idiosyncratic nesting practices: Jack took inventory of every toy that needed new batteries and kept a tally, Cecilia changed outfits ad infinitum from the repertoire hanging in the closet, and Calvin dumped out the entire collection of toys onto the living room floor. Cecilia was and still is at odds with what to do with her used toilet paper, carrying it in hand after her visit to the bathroom, panties around the ankles. And my appointment that took me to Beverly Hills by 10 am the following day was surreal if, for no other reason, than the valet had to ask me several times if this was my car when he drove up, because I just didn’t recognize it!!

Aside from those little silly glitches, it’s been incredibly rewarding to watch the kids adjust back to home life. It is difficult to pin-point the differences, but easy to recognize them. I have a Kindergartener who’s music class was attempting to rhyme each student’s name. Nobody could rhyme the name “Laila”, said with a long i. After a moment, Calvin suggested “baila”, explaining to his classmates that it meant “dance in Spanish”. In fact, at orientation, we spoke Spanish with several fellow students and their parents, and I felt my world open. This is our third year at the school, but I am meeting a whole new community. I ask Calvin if he speaks Spanish with the kids at school, and he shakes his head with a sheepish grin. But when I arrive to school, I am greeted by a lovely Spanish speaking little girl, who knows that our worlds are not split or separated. She is perfectly bilingual, but we prefer to speak in Spanish.  Bilingual potluck dinners are on the agenda…

Jack was very nervous that he would have forgotten his classmates, or his way around the school, all for no reason. He slipped right back into the fabric of second grade as any other child returned from summer vacation.  Though he is a thoughtful boy, generally more shy than aggressive, he is a zealot on the soccer field. Take no prisoners, animal, this guy hustles! Would he be this way regardless, or is it due to his time spent as the youngest player scrounging for the ball with A.C. Milan in the land that grooms their soccer players young? He is also sharing a bit more of his goofy sweetness with others which I’d have to attribute to an increasing self-confidence … probably normal developmental growth, but I’d like to think it is also due to pride in accomplishments overall.

We speak Spanish at home sometimes, but it is a complicated and delicate balance sought in the comfort of our own home without outsiders around. Ironically, it is often in their goofiest moments – in the bath, the car, playing with the puppy – but when their guards are completely let down, that the kids speak Spanish unsolicited. Joking with one another, they are playful with the language and use it to create double entendres that often make us all laugh. However initially back home, Jack begged me to NEVER speak Spanish in public while home in the U.S. – Mexico was OK, but not here. I obviously didn’t agree to this, but I am sensitive to his discomfort from the attention that it brings to a blond haired, blue eyed boy. He will answer me, but he is reluctant to be a trained monkey and demonstrate his skills. Cecilia, on the other hand, la muñeca princesa, eats up the attention, of course – happily performing ‘Las Mañanitas’ to any request! Interestingly, I can also use Spanish to get their attention while in a store or otherwise, as in “Mira, Cecilia!  Escuchame, no puedes ir….” It’s as if they suddenly hear my words differently when I switch to the other language.

Our pediatrician is one of the few adults who have successfully solicited Jack for information about his life in Mexico… Jack capitalized on this opportunity to convince me that he should have a birthday party here in the U.S., and then have another when we return to San Miguel! What else could I say but ‘claro’?! Anything, anything to get them to embrace the idea of our return and dual life!

So I find that it’s all about language. How we think of our experiences is shaped by how we talk about them – present, past, and future. I am reminded of the many articles I’ve read about ‘prestige languages’ and am very careful and cautious when creating our narrative. It is an ongoing process that we are constantly renegotiating in our minds and with one another. The reality of this process and our dual lives can be uncomfortable. The kids are beginning to see that it can also be recognized and appreciated, too, and I hope that they see the inherent value in time.

But it’s hard. There are still many people that fear the violence so much that they would NEVER consider a trip to Mexico, and my children are perceptive of those opinions as well. We have decided to live differently, because I’d like for my children to think differently. When we are away and circumstances are different, I have excellent opportunities to talk about those ideas – water scarcity, needs versus wants, traditions, expectations, and opportunities. When so many things are new in our environment, our perspective is open to observing even a common sight very differently than we would have at home – so that something as mundane as a grocery store outing becomes a huge exploration into culture.

Reflection is a very personal process, however, that is not easily monitored or quantified.  =Yesterday my boys were laughing hysterically dressed in bathtime bubbles convincing me that, “Ya hablamos español!”. They have accepted that we will return to MX, and I am more convinced than ever. It is not just because of the concrete reasons (like language acquisition, or accessibility to fabulous art classes), but because of the difference in ‘thinking’. I find myself in situations in Los Angeles where others tell me, “yeah, but that’s the way it is…” or “it’s the same everywhere” and I am taken back to some former sports coach telling me to just “deal with it” at age 15. And that is not the case. Life has options. And if you don’t like something, it’s important to find an alternative solution.

San Miguel seems to be composed of many people who do not find themselves constrained by expectations, or limited by their options or traditional roles. There are fewer rules! True, it is an expensive and affluent Mexican town (that can afford to offer privileges of the elite to the masses and yes, is uncomfortably colonial at times), but I argue about something more intangible than commodities – a way of thinking that embraces ingenuity and defies expectations. It is a place where 75-year-olds cruise around on motor-scooters, age nor background defines ‘dress’ or ‘behavior’, people reinvent themselves as sculptors, and the goal is to live well.

I hiccup sometimes when I am there and ponder our ‘productivity’, immediately sliding back into that Puritanical work ethic of the common American, but I really want my children to seek their sense of success, satisfaction, and happiness from within.  That can be difficult to achieve when you’re so busy checking boxes, taking tests… the awful old adage of ‘keeping up with the Jones’, which allows no time for reflection or personal exploration.

There are many ways to do this, I am clear. This is our path – for now. It certainly stands to change as my children mature, but the power to be flexible and adaptable,  to live untraditionally or uncommonly by other’s standards, is a power for choice that will remain in our DNA.

My husband loves to say that you need to “prepare to be lucky” in life, and that is how I see our whole Mexico experience – how lucky we are.

I grew up in Canada and I always enjoyed celebrating Halloween. I have fond memories of dressing up in costumes, carving pumpkins, and trick-or-treating. When I chose Mexico as my country over a decade ago, my associations with this time of year underwent a radical shift. I fell in love with Day of the Dead, and it’s a tradition I’ve embraced wholeheartedly, and I enjoy sharing it with my children very much.

Halloween is a fun holiday, but Day of the Dead celebrations have a much deeper significance. Dia de los Muertos is about celebrating connections with family and friends, and it honors those who have passed on before us in a very special way. Add to that fun activities, delicious foods and time spent visiting with family and you have all you could ever want in a holiday. My two children were born and have lived in Oaxaca their whole lives. For them, Day of the Dead is an integral part of our yearly calendar of celebrations, just as important as Christmas or Easter.

In Oaxaca, children are involved in all aspects of Day of the Dead, from putting together the home altar to cleaning and decorating the graves of family members and keeping vigil in the cemetery. Those are somewhat solemn aspects of Day of the Dead, but there are also playful aspects of this holiday. In schools in Oaxaca there are friendly competitions for the best altar and also costume contests, as well as comparsas, carnival-like processions of people in costume.

My children participate in our family observances of Day of the Dead by accompanying me to the market to purchase the items we will place on our altar. We assemble our altar together as a family, and while we do so we talk about the loved ones to whom our altar is dedicated. We remember them as we place the things that they enjoyed in life on the altar for them. We go to my father-in-law’s grave and decorate it also, and we often visit other cemeteries, because they’re decorated so beautifully at this time of year.

I’ve found that the task of explaining death to my children is easier in light of Day of the Dead. I think it’s extremely valuable to teach children about death before they have to deal with it personally, so that they have a concept of death and what it means before it touches their lives. Day of the Dead offers a socially prescribed way to deal with loss, not just when it happens, but every year at a specific time.

My father-in-law passed away when my daughter was four, and that year she went through a period of a lot of questioning about death. Framing our discussions of death within a context of Day of the Dead made it a lot easier to explain. In the years following his death, Dia de los Muertos became a special time in which we could remember him, bring out photos, and talk about our memories of him.

The scent of marigolds mingled with copal incense, the taste of pan de muerto dunked in hot chocolate, and the sight of cemeteries festooned with flowers and lit up with candles, are some of the memories I hope my children will carry with them. Celebrating Day of the Dead adds depth and meaning to our lives; it offers us a moment to remember those who are no longer with us and reminds us to enjoy our time together because we’re aware it won’t be forever.

Learn more about Day of the Dead in Oaxaca.

Suzanne Barbezat grew up in Montreal, Canada, but made her home in Oaxaca, Mexico, where she lives with her Mexican husband and their two children. She shares her love of Mexico on About.com’s Mexico Travel site (gomexico.about.com), and she is a Mexico Today contributor.

Editor’s note: This is the sixth post in our Flan Week celebration in honor of Hispanic Heritage Month.

I grew up in a Cuban household where food, familia, and fiesta were the main ingredients.  My father loved to cook and was frankly great at it. Being that I enjoyed and devoured every meal he created, traditional and non, I blamed the curves that were developing to the home cooking.  It wasn’t until later on in life that I realized I suffered from my own body image issues and did much in my power to erase those curves.  Today I am proud to say I am older and wiser and have made it my life’s mission to find the balance between health & fitness without losing the culture.  Like I often say, lose the fat never the culture.

When my dad passed away almost 8 yrs ago in my own desperation to feel closer to him I hit the kitchen. I never liked to cook and stayed as far away from the stove as I could due to fear that I would never cook as well as he did.  Although I would trade the kitchen to have him back just for one more day, I connect with him through cooking and ask him for tips on what to throw into a dish. I truly believe he guides me.  Today I must admit, I have developed a love to cook that I never imagined would.

The recipes found in my book “….Barbara por Atras” A Latin Woman’s Guide to Fitness are only a few of my favorite Latino dishes transformed to adopt a healthier life.  I like to keep true to my roots by implementing natural herbs and spices, cutting down on the fat, and thinking outside the box. It is with my greatest pleasure that I share with you my rendition of one of our cultures favorite: The Flan. I can assure you, not you nor your guests will ever think it low fat! Buen Aprovecho y Gracias Papi…..

Barbara’s Low Fat Flan

Ingredients

• 1 egg
• 1⁄2 bar of fat free cream cheese
• 4 egg whites
• 1 cup of sugar
• 1 can evaporated fat free or 2% milk
• 1 can fat free condensed milk

Preparation

1. Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.
2. In a small saucepan over low heat add sugar stirring occasionally until it caramelizes. Transfer the caramelized sugar onto a 10-inch baking pan and evenly spread throughout the bottom of the pan.
3. Place it aside to cool off.
4. Blend remaining ingredients in a blender until well mixed.
5. Once sugar is cool add blended mixture into the baking pan. Cover with aluminum foil, place in a “Baño Maria”* and bake for 1 hour or until knife inserted in the middle comes out clean. Once baked remove from oven and  ”Bano Maria”, set aside and let cool.
6. Place in refrigerator overnight.
7. The following day remove it from the baking pan by gently removing it from the edges with a knife, place your serving dish on top covering the baking pan and flip.
8. It’s ready to serve!  A perfect ending to a great meal!

*Baño Maria is when you place one dish into another with water in it. In this case you will fill a pan 1/3 its way with water and place the baking dish inside making sure the water does not spill into it. You are cooking with the heated water and oven.  Don’t ask, I have NO idea who Maria is and what this technique has to do with her bath. Leave it to us Latinos…..

With an approach centered on empowerment and self-acceptance, Barbara Trujillo-Gomez 
is one of the country’s most well loved fitness and wellness experts. Her message is simple: healthy is the ultimate standard of beauty. A fitness, yoga, nutrition and cardiovascular guru; the founder of her own fitness brand – B&B Fit; the author of the exceedingly popular “…Barbara por Atras” – A Latin Woman’s Guide to Fitness; and a leading expert on multicultural health and wellness issues.

{Photo Courtesy of Bren Herrera}

To be enticed with other flavors, check out my blog, Flanboyant Eats, every day where I do a #FlanFriday and feature a new flavored flan!

Flan Recipe: Pumpkin Spice Flan

Ingredients:

6 tbsp. sugar
4 whole eggs, whisked
1 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup pumpkin purée (canned will do)
3/4 cup 2% or whole milk
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg

Directions:

For custard: In a bowl, combine eggs, sweetened condensed & whole milk, pumpkin purée, spices and extract.  Whisk for about 2 minutes. Set aside.

For caramel: Add sugar to the aluminum flan mold and bring to medium-high heat. Allow all of the sugar to melt down until golden caramel, stirring constantly. Do not allow sugar to burn. When sugar is fully dissolved into caramel, carefully coat the bottom and sides of the flan mold using hand towels to hold the pan. Use a brush if you are not experienced in handling extremely hot caramel. Let sit for two minutes until sugar sets. Pour flan mixture into pan using a medium mesh hand strainer.

Baking the Flan: If you have a traditional 10″ flan pan, cover entirely with aluminum foil. If using a more updated version, cover lid and shut tight with latches. Add two cups of water to a large saucepan and gently place flan pan into the baño de Maria. Bring to boil for 45-60 minutes or until custard is fully cooked, but not too firm. Once the flan is fully cooked, immediately low heat and let simmer for 5 minutes. Remove flan pan from the baño de Maria and discard excess water from saucepan.

Do not remove flan from pan. Refrigerate for 7-9 hours or overnight. To serve, loosen the sides of the flan all the way around using a butter knife. Take a large plate, place upside down on top of flan and flip!

Bren Herrera is a Cuban-born American that lives for food, fashion, travel & music–the 4 elements that keep her busy while entertaining others. As a private chef and food writer and blogger, Bren loves introducing to her clients her Cuban roots through her cuisine but also infuses techniques and flavors she’s adopted from her international travels. She cooks in stilettos, owns 9 stovetop espresso makers and starts her day with a doble of Cuban espresso. Her food blog, Flanboyant Eats™, a cheeky wordplay on the Latin custard flan, has garnered her global attention and accolades from revered chefs which whom she’s worked with. Because of her food blog’s name, Bren has been dubbed the “Flan Queen” has over 45 flavors to indulge in. She has written a weekly column LATINA Magazine, Dean & DeLuca and other notable print and online publications. Bren blogs at: www.flanboyanteats.com and www.bsochic.blogspot.com and can be found on Twitter and Facebook under her name.

{Photo Courtesy of Maria Amelia}

Editor’s note: This is the fourth post in our Flan Week celebration in honor of Hispanic Heritage Month. Today is the turn of  María Amelia,  creator of Mommylogue.com, and the community leader of and a blogger for Blogsdemamas.com de Todobebé.  María Amelia shares with us a story about traditional Spanish Flan. We hope you come back all week to check out so many different ways of making flan in Latin America and Spain!

Ah Spain. España de mi alma. I love it. It is in every fiber of my being, implanted there by my mother and my father. My mother, of course, was born and raised there. My father is American of Puerto Rican parents, but studied medicine there and fell in love with my mother… and with it. And so, as I mentioned in an earlier post on this site, my sister and I spent every summer in Spain, and the remaining three seasons waiting to return.

How did I ever make it through Fall, Winter and Spring? Well, one way was living vicariously through the letters I received from my family and friends in Madrid. A second was the occasional care package delivering much anticipated clothing and treats. The package would arrive wrapped in brown paper and tied with brown string, and a full quarter of it was covered in stamps. Unwrapping it revealed excellent quality clothing, a year ahead of la moda in the States. Pre-Christmas, however, it also contained the classic sweets of la epoca – turrón, mantecados, yemas and polvorones.

Naturally, food and music carried us through the rest of the months. Not a lot of Spanish food was imported into the United States in the 70s and 80s. Many Americans (mistakenly) still regarded Spain as not completely ¨modern¨ or what have you, and the reality of a fascist government followed by an evolving democracy made America´s doors open ever so sloooowly to Spain´s outstanding, artisanal quality of food people all over the United States enjoy today. So, my mother made due with what was available. She cooked us typical Spanish dishes, using ingredients purchased here or brought back with us from one of our trips. The taste was never exactly identical, but it was close enough. 

A few things translated well. Tortilla Española was one. Arroz con pollo was another. But there is no substitute for the marisco of the coasts of the Mediterraneo or Cantábrico, the cordero of Castilla or, of course, the jamón. For these we waited all year long and then enjoyed them with gusto. I love Spanish food, and if I were asked what my last meal would be it would be some typical plato Castellano.

Here´s the rub. For all of its centuries and centuries of tradition, Spain – traditionally – was not a power house of desserts. Now, before anyone gets offended, I am not saying that typical, traditional Spanish desserts are not works of art. They are. They are pure, wholesome works of the land from which they are produced. And today, with the advent of the modern Spanish chef who for the last few years have been turning the world of cuisine on its ear, Spain has made advances in desserts akin to that first step for mankind. However, culturally, traditionally it did not achieve the levels of complexity of its neighbors to the East or South. Spain´s traditional desserts were of the people, el pueblo, a lot of which was poor. And so the most typical of Spanish desserts incorporate basic ingredients elevated to the sublime. SUBLIME. And so you see, I am not showing a lack of respect to Spanish desserts, rather I am saying that what my ancestors did was take the ordinary and make it divine.

And herein comes el flan. Eggs, milk, sugar, lemon. Punto y se acabó. Its origins are ancient. There are variations of flan all over the Mediterranean, the Middle East and the world, but how could there not be? It is custard. Eggs, milk, sugar. These are three of the most basic ingredients of life. Add to this lemon as the precursor for the caramelo, and we´re done. Traditional flan – the flan of my mother´s generation, of the older generations – is just that. Add anything else to it and they will tell you it´s not flan. It´s ¨a flan¨ but it´s not ¨flan¨. This is not to say that these flans are wrong or bad, or that theirs is better. My parents, or uncles or aunts will still eat a variation on flan, enjoy it immensely and lick the spoon. But after they´re done, they´ll look you in the face and tell you it´s not ¨flan¨.

So what is flan to a traditionalist? Flan is part of the culture. Flan is what generations of Spaniards made with pride to celebrate special occasions. That much sugar was not to be used lightly, especially in times of poverty or war.  Flan is in the genes. Flan is respected. Flan is enjoyed.

My mother´s flan is a work of art. It is big, it is soft, it is delicate and it is all her love, her pride, her family tradition and her heritage, folded in milk, egg yolk and sugar and cooked under pressure in a baño maría. Each time she makes it, it consumes her. Everything else is cleared out of the way, the ingredients are taken out and the ancient dance begins. The look on her face reflects how seriously she is taking the preparation. The pot she uses, the flanero brought back with her from Madrid, is probably as old as I am if not part of her ajuar which would make it older, and it is as clean as the day it was bought. Making her flan is as much a dance as it is a battle against physics and chemistry to make these proteins, acids and carbohydrates defy their true natures and combine into the softest quivering mass of divine inspiration allowed to us here on earth. A flan is to desserts what Stravinsky´s ¨Sacre du Printemps¨ depicted for spring, or what Debussy´s ¨La Mer¨ was to the romantic idea of the ocean. It is an explosive conversion of the elements to produce a gentle result.

When she makes her flan, my mother experiences emotions and carnal memories of days past. Making flan exhausts her, not just because it is tricky but because the flood gates of time open and memories of moments punctuated by flan return – some happy, but more often bittersweet. Just as flan for me is represented in my mother, flan for her is represented in memories of her mother and of her childhood. And so that genetic connection of which I spoke at the beginning is sparked by this ancient custard.

Once the ingredients are combined, she gingerly lifts the flanero and places it in the olla de presión. There is the element of danger. And the moment of truth comes after removing the flanero and cooling the custard as this is when the delicate mass is inverted and the pot is pulled off. One wrong move, a sudden jolt, the wrong temperature, an uneven plate, or worse an undetected error in its preparation, and all that egg, sugar and milk are lost. My mother´s flan is no little individual flan. It stands proudly at several inches in height and feeds the family during Nochebuena, or Domingo de Resurrección or other special occasions.

Recently I had the good fortune of eating flan at a restaurant called “Jaleo” outside of Washington DC. It is one of Chef José Andrés´ restaurants. In case you haven´t heard of him, José Andrés is a very well respected and successful Spanish chef here in the States who has done a lot to educate Americans on food from Spain. My husband, daughters and I decided to celebrate my birthday there, and for dessert I ordered the ¨flan al estilo tradicional con espuma de crema catalana¨ or traditional style flan with crema catalana foam. It was excellent and I enjoyed every spoonful.

So. Is traditional Spanish flan the best? No, but it is my favorite for what it means to me. Does it have its place in the culture of Spain? Yes, and for that we are proud and grateful. Are there other typical Spanish desserts? Yes, there are many from all over the different regions of Spain. And there are other custards as well. Crema catalana is one. My mother´s favorite dessert, in fact, is not flan. It is natillas which is another custard. Finally, can I give you my mother´s recipe for flan? No because if I do she will kill me.

Next time you decide to have flan, try a simple traditional one. Sit down and eat it slowly. Maybe you will experience a spark as well.

Maria Amelia is the mother of three beautiful girls and the wife of the world’s gentlest and most intelligent dentist. She is the daughter of a proud Madrileña and a Puerto Rican American father who dedicated his career to bringing life into the world. She is the creator of Mommylogue.com, and she is the community leader of and a blogger for Blogsdemamas.com de Todobebé. Maria Amelia loves her family and her heritage, and is pleased to be able to share her thoughts on all of it.