{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.

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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.

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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.

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{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.

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{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.

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Editor’s note: This is the third post in our Flan Week celebration in honor of Hispanic Heritage Month. Today is the turn of  Morena, half the team behind the blog Perú Delights and she brings us a traditional Crema Volteada {Flan} from Perú.. We hope you come back all week to check out so many different ways of making flan in Latin America and Spain!

Nothing in the world is easier to make than a Flan, or its mother, the gracious French lady called Crème Caramel. For Latin Americans, our love of flan is in our genes, in our blood, and in our surprisingly sweet palate. It is popular all across Central America, South America, and the Caribbean, and even though it may have lots of regional variations, it’s chore is always the same: baked milk and eggs covered in caramel. I have eaten it since I was a little girl, so did my parents, and so have my children, and I don’t think this continuity is going to end any time soon.

In Peru children start their love affair with Flan at a very early age. There isn’t one single kid who hasn’t carried a portion of Flan in his/her school lunchbox, or a house or restaurant that doesn’t make it regularly. It’s a dessert to celebrate everything, to comfort anyone, and to have in hand just to satisfy the cravings for something sweet. Nobody is free from indulging in this velvety, vanilla flavored custard covered with caramel sauce… So rich and addictive, but at the same time so innocent and homey.

The name is confusing for many people, especially because in French pastry vocabulary, a Flan is a kind of tart with a baked crust and a creamy filling. What we Latinos know as Flan is something quite different but equally delightful. Peruvians also call it Crema Volteada, which literally means “upside down cream”, and have turned their love for this ubiquitous dessert into a creative force, producing many versions of the original with as many flavors and textures as is possible to imagine: cream cheese, apple, pear, raisins, quinoa, lúcuma, coconut, corn, prunes, cinnamon… However, hands down, the original plain vanilla is the favorite all over the country.

Leche Asada is another dessert from Colonial times that resembles Flan, even though it´s less sweet, not as rich, and has a burnt top layer. It’s made with fresh milk instead, baked without the caramel, and the outer surface is burnt with a hot cast iron, (so it definitely is not a Crème Brulée or Crema Catalana either).

Here is our very simple and surefire recipe for Flan. We use evaporated milk, sweetened condensed milk, and eggs, all mixed together in a blender, and baked in a water bath, a.k.a. “bain marie”, to get that soft, creamy, delicate texture. It’s so easy that you can make it with success even if you’ve never boiled a pan of water in your life. The amount of eggs varies from recipe to recipe, and if you prepare it with whole milk instead, the result will be lighter and less creamy, but still delicious. A disfrutar!

CREMA VOLTEADA (makes 8 portions)

Ingredients

1 cup white sugar

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 can evaporated milk
6 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla essence Directions

*Preheat the oven at 375 F.

*In a saucepan heat the sugar over medium high heat, moving constantly until it melts and forms a liquid caramel. Be careful not to let it burn because it will taste bitter. When it’s ready pour into a ( 9 inch) baking pan, covering all the inner surface with the caramel. Be very careful with your fingers, and don’t even dream of tasting it with your tongue. Hot caramel is dangerous. Let it cool.

*Blend eggs, milk, and vanilla essence in a mixer. Pour into the baking pan.

*Put the baking pan inside a larger pan with about 2 fingers high of hot water.

*Bake for 1 hour. Let it cool completely.

*When cool, run a knife around the border and turn the flan over a bigger plate.

*To soften the hard caramel at the bottom of the baking pan, put the empty baking pan over medium heat, with 1/3 cup water. Stir with a spoon until it softens and becomes liquid again, and pour over the flan.

*Keep refrigerated, and share with your loved ones.

Morena Cuadrais half the team behind Peru Delights, a Peruvian food blog she created with her daughter, also Morena. They write about their country`s cuisine, with both a traditional perspective and an open mind with a healthy twist. Morena is a journalist, a trained chef and a wine expert, and has edited and published several magazines and book collections. She’s a founding member of the Peruvian Guild of Wine Specialists, and she directed a cooking school in Lima until 2008. She now lives in Virginia,USA.

{All photos in this post are courtesy of Morena Cuadra}

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I’m not sure at what moment it hit me, but this summer I was determined to take my three kids, ages 9, 6, and 5 abroad for a cultural immersion experience. I wasn’t sure where we were going yet, I only knew that I wanted to be immersed in either the French or Spanish language and culture.

Why did I want to do this? Well, 34 years ago I was born in Mexico City, Mexico, to a Mexican mother and a Haitian father. We left Mexico for Haiti when I was still a baby. Around the age of 3, we moved to New York City and have been in the States since then. While I grew up listening to Selena, eating mole on special occasions, and hearing my parents speak Spanish at home, my brother and I spoke only English. My parents wanted us to help them learn English so we focused on learning English and eventually forgot how to speak Spanish and French. Even though we spoke English with my parents,  my parents  taught us about the Mexican and Haitian traditions.

As a bi-cultural mother married to an African-American, I have a big job ahead of me. I have three different cultures to teach my children. Even though I cook food my mother and aunts have taught me to cook, and my iPod has both new and traditional artists from Haiti and Mexico, I knew that something was missing. It wasn’t just that we didn’t speak Spanish at home, it was much more than that. It was the experience of going home and being totally immersed in the culture and the language, smelling the air, touching the soil.

When we were children, my brother and I visited Mexico and Haiti several times. The earliest memory I have was going to Haiti the summer before I entered second grade. One morning, we were in Miami, Florida and by lunch we were in Port au Prince, Haiti. Even though I was only 7, I still have many memories from that trip and our subsequent trips to Mexico.   Those trips defined who I was and where I came from. I had a better understanding of my culture and family traditions.

It was this sort of experience that I wanted for my children. After careful planning, we chose Mexico over Haiti. We would spend a few days in Mexico City to visit with family and the rest of our time would be in San Miguel de Allende. San Miguel is a small colonial town located 180 miles north of Mexico City. It is rich in history, culture, and the arts. There is a small population of Americans that live there either full or part-time and, as a result, there are many great bilingual summer programs for international kids. The programs offer  cooking classes, crafts and arts, Mexican history, and of course, Spanish.

In preparation for our trip, I checked out a number of different books on Mexico for children. We learned about the history, I showed the kids a map of where we were going, what we would see, and what we would do. I wanted to prepare them as much as possible to eliminate some of their natural fears they had about going away for a month. They were going to miss their friends at home, their rooms, and were scared about not knowing anyone of the language. I was also scared about going, not sure how they would react, whether our rental home would be suitable, or if we would make any friends.

Now, that we are back home, I can say that the experience well exceeded my expectations. We made many friends, we learned more than I could’ve learned in books and videos about Mexico, and  the children are now speaking a little Spanish. Sure there were moments where they missed home, missed their daddy (who was only able to stay for a week with us due to work), and wanted to eat “plain food.” My son learned how to make tortillas from scratch, the children made beautiful piñatas, and met other children from Switzerland to California. I have no regrets about our trip and know that I hope to be able to return next summer. We promised our new friends that we would be back, gave kisses to our new teachers, and promised to Skype from America and stay in touch.

*** All images courtesy and copyright Justice Jonesie.

Justice Jonesie is a recovering lawyer, mother of three beautiful children, and blogger at JusticeJonesie.com and Mamalaw.com. She blogs about travel, fitness, and the joys and challenges of motherhood. In 2009, Jonesie founded the Blogalicious Weekend conferences. Born in Mexico City, Mexico to a Mexican mother and a Haitian father, Jonesie is on a journey to raise her children biculturally in the Southern town of Jacksonville, Florida.

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{Photo by Tela Cche}

Editor’s Note: This whole week is dedicated to the topic of Bicultural Birthday Celebration. Make sure you’re subscribed to receive our posts because we have an awesome round up of guest posts and fabulous giveaways.

I remember one of the first birthday parties I attended after I moved to Florida from Puerto Rico. I was taken aback by how laid back it was. I was so used to the celebrations we had in Puerto Rico that it took me some time to get used to the differences.

One thing I remember most about birthday parties growing up is how festive they were. There was music, food, games, and lots of people. Always. Parties were full of friends and family, with plenty of adults present. They normally lasted quite a few hours and were mostly held at our home.

Now, as a mother myself, I tend to host similar birthday parties for our baby girl and still see differences from the parties we attend for her school friends. We’ve never hosted a birthday party for her that wasn’t held at either our home or abuela’s. On the other hand, every single birthday party we’ve attended for her friends has been at a Chuck E Cheese’s or a similar venue.

For food, we serve full meals: chicken or pork with arroz con gandules (or another variety of yellow rice). Additionally, music is always playing in the background at our parties and it’s not uncommon for the adults to get up and start dancing. These two things are also quite different at the parties we attend, since normally the food served is pizza or sandwiches, and music is not commonly a part of the party, unless there’s a game of musical chairs.

In Puerto Rico, when it was time to sing to the birthday girl/boy, we normally would sing Happy Birthday in Spanish, with our version being:

Cumpleaños feliz, te deseamos a ti, cumpleaños a {insert name}, cumpleaños feliz!

Immediately after that song, we’d sing:

¡Feliz, feliz en tu día! ¡Amiguita(o) qué Dios te bendiga! ¡Qué reine la paz en tu día…y qué cumplas muchos más!

And then sometimes, just for fun, we’d add: “Te estás poniendo vieja(o)…con cara de coneja(o)!”

Though now we sing Happy Birthday in English, we do still sing the second song in Spanish. It’s just another layer of keeping birthday traditions from Puerto Rico alive for our children, even though we don’t live en la Isla del Encanto.

I enjoy our birthday parties and though they take a lot of work, I always look forward to them. I love that we are able to celebrate alongside so many friends and extended family and that my baby girl has so much fun. As a plus, I’m able to keep a piece of my childhood alive and pass down a bit of Puerto Rico to my children.

Melanie Edwards is the founder and editor of ModernMami™.com, a lifestyle blog from the perspective of a Latina working mother, and owner of Ella Media. Married 8 years, she is the proud mother of an energized 5-year-old girl and newborn boy, and is raising them in a bilingual, multicultural environment. Originally from Puerto Rico, Melanie now resides in Orlando, Florida. Connect with Melanie on Twitter, Facebook, and 40weeks Plus.

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{Paella Cookout}

Editor’s Note: This whole week is dedicated to the topic of Bicultural Birthday Celebration. Make sure you’re subscribed to receive our posts because we have an awesome round up of guest posts and fabulous giveaways.

Growing up in New York during the late 70s and 80s (shhh… don’t tell anyone), birthday parties in the United States were low key as compared to today. They consisted of sandwiches or pizza, pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, cake and a big old “adios” as you handed your friends their “bootie bag” on the way out your door. Oh, yeah. Parties were held at home – en casita. If you were lucky you might have it at McDonald’s or the back room of your local diner. That’s if you were lucky. In my case I didn’t celebrate many birthdays in N.Y. In fact, in the time leading up to my 25th birthday, I probably celebrated no more than 6 birthdays in the States. That’s because I was born in the summer and every summer, without fail, we packed our bags and headed to the country. The country of Spain.

In the 1960s the Spanish government promoted a tourism campaign with the motto “Spain is different.” “España es diferente.” It’s true. Spain was (and still is) different in many ways, with birthday celebrations being no exception. My most vivid birthday memory is my favorite birthday custom of all – “los tirones de oreja” or “the ear tugs”. Growing up in the U.S. back in the day, on your birthday, your friends would give you a punch in the arm for each year of your life, plus one for good luck. Not so in Spain. There, your friends and family would pull your earlobe, one tug for each year of your life, plus one for good luck. Naturally, the older you got, the more “energy” your buddies put into pulling your ear. If you were a boy, you were doomed. That is to say, starting in middle school and ending somewhere in your late teens it was in your best interest to avoid your more “gamberro” (troublemaker) friends because by day’s end your ears would be aching. Naturally, your mamá and papá would take it easy on you, with only a slightly harder tug for “el de la suerte“.

Another “costumbre” is the one of whose responsibility it is to “invitar” or, plainly put, pay. When you are a child, naturally, you are treated on your birthday. However, as soon as you were old enough to carry some (then) pesetas or (now) euros in your pocket, it was your responsibility to pay. So, if you went out with your “pandilla” (group of friends) to the local “terraza” (outdoor café/bar) on your birthday, it was your responsibility to treat everyone to something. That something could run the gamut from Coca Colas, to a “ración” (small portion) of “pinchos” (appetizers on a toothpick) to “cañas” (glasses of beer).

Birthday parties were low key growing up as well. Generally they consisted more of having your amigos over during “la merienda” – snack time. This meant treating them to “pasteles” (Spaniards refer to pastries as pasteles, not to be confused with some Caribbean or South American countries’ versions of the word), “bollos” (sweet breadlike treats) or maybe “chocolate con churros”. I always wanted to teach my Spanish friends about what we did in the States so I would ask my parents to order a cake. The funny thing about the cakes there were the flavors. For example, whereas here strawberry shortcake is pretty run of the mill, in Spain “yema” (egg yolk) was the standard. I was not a big fan of it then. Now… I love it.

Naturally, the older you got, the more creative you got on your birthday. By the time I was 14, la pandilla and I would spend the morning shopping either in the “ultramarinos” (markets) or our parent’s fridges for pan, arroz, pollo, cebolla, ajo, tomate, azafrán, chorizo, morcilla, Fanta and fruta. Then in the afternoon we would beg our parents to borrow a “paellera” (typical paella pan), a sarten (frying pan), cuchillos y tenedores (forks and knives), cucharas de palo (wooden spoons) y cerillas (matches) and we would head out to “el campo”, build a fire and cook our meal. (I still remember the birthday I ate so much morcilla (blood sausage) I spent the evening throwing up… good times, good times. My mother got so angry…) We had cookouts in the countryside because we were in the Sierra de Guadarrama outside Madrid. Our friends from Galicia – to the north – would tell us about seafood cookouts and ancient pagan “queimadas” on the beach. The ones from the Andalucía – to the south – would talk about parties with “sevillanas” (typical folk dances). Music is essential at all times no matter what part of Spain you are in.

Now as the world gets smaller, the differences in birthday celebrations are lessening. “El mundo es un pañuelo” as the expression goes. The world is a handkerchief. It’s true. But still most of these customs remain, and typical birthday foods – as with any holiday – generally revolve around “lo que da la tierra” or what is produced locally. These Spanish traditions are so ingrained in me that my Greek American hubby and I pull our daughters’ ears on their birthdays. Sadly, neither Carvel nor the local corner bakeries offer yema birthday cakes in our area. But even though we throw elaborately themed birthday parties for our girls as is customary in NY today, you can bet there is always at least one “chorizito” lurking in a corner somewhere.

As for my birthday this summer, I’ll be cooking a paella in the Outerbanks.

Maria Amelia was raised in a Spanish speaking home in a neighborhood with only a handful of other Latino and Spanish families. Despite being looked down upon for speaking Spanish at times throughout her childhood, her parents always told her to be proud of her family, her culture and her heritage. She shares her pride and her love in her blog Mommylogue.

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I asked my 7 year old if he thought birthday parties were different in Mexico than in the U.S.  He said, “Totally”.  Sweet, I thought, some food for fodder…

How?

“Spanish”.

Thanks for the insight, love.  I will argue, however, that is the cool thing with kids – they take it as it comes, and assimilate instantly. The clowns, the piñatas and cascarones, mordita (for sure) are as much a part of their repertoire now as the traditional ‘cake and ice cream’ in America.

Anyway, a gorgeous birthday party is why we’ve now spent so much time in Mexico: thank you to Olivier for turning 4 years ago. At his party, we were welcomed as complete strangers and introduced to friends.  We shared a slice of life that day touched with sweetness and frivolity, but underscored in tradition, that made us hunger for more. Seriously, was this how other people lived?

But let’s start with the basics: In the States, kids are often invited a month in advance for a birthday party from 2-5 pm. Lovely. In my experience in Mexico, you could be invited the day before for a party at “4”, which EVERYONE advises you not to arrive until 5 at the earliest, a la Mexi-time. An intentional late arrival makes me squeamish as I wouldn’t want to offend the host, but as others point out – the host might not even be there if you arrive at the exact time (and then where are you?!), and anyway, what’s the rush? The party will go on for hours… no host in Mexico would ever impose an ending time – THAT would truly be rude.

I have never been invited to a dull party here – children’s birthdays are celebrated with abandon and a full cache of families and friends. They are generally a rich blending of activities, not unlike those we entertain in Los Angeles, delicious food, and traditions.  

My favorite custom of singing the “Dale, Dale” song has given way to “mordida”. But the “Dale, Dale” song is a fun way for everyone to participate while one child beats a piñata to a pulp. I say it that way because I’ve often witnessed sweet little girls in princess attire (or for that matter, sweet little boys) baffled by why they should be hitting the floating castle with candy… thank goodness, someone usually jumps up, happy to demonstrate wild behavior to break it open. And only once have I seen the actual stick break before the piñata does. Either way, “Dale, Dale” keeps everyone in line (3 swats and you’re done) and involved.

Cascarones are great – hollowed out eggs with confetti. They are an awesome time consuming craft and can create quite a mess, but confetti alters moods like only the pop of a nice champagne bottle can. In Antigua, Guatemala, the novios purchased them to squash over amorous heads as a flirting technique when circling the town square on foot.  We made them for Easter, since they’re eggs.  But traditionally in Mexico, they are used for particular celebrations – like birthday parties. We made about 3 per person for  Easter, totaling around 2 dozen minus the ‘bad eggs’, of course… But my friend brought out a plastic storage box the size of a laundry basket filled with cascarones. She had to beg the kids to finish them up – there were so many that adults jumped in!  …another refreshing aspect I love in the Mexican culture… adults welcomed to act like children, again It is SO fun.

So aside from the bouncy houses, clowns and games, pony rides and piñatas, cascarones, and SCRUMPTIOUS FOOD, our hands-down favorite tradition is “mordida!”. This, I tell you, is not solely reserved for children’s parties – as witnessed when celebrating 39 years of an amigo one Friday night.

Traditionally, the cake is brought out as everyone sings “Las Mañanitas”.  After the candles have been blown, the excitement builds. “Mor-di-da! Mor-di-da!” is chanted in unison. Supposedly, somebody well positioned behind the birthday person, then gently aids in pushing his/her face toward the cake. Truthfully each time I’ve seen it, the birthday boy has welcomed the opportunity and without prodding, into the cake a whole face flies!  The crowd always goes wild!  It is hysterical – every time!! It is also completely shocking to the uninitiated… which can be seen in the face of my daughter. I am told that every ‘good’ Mexican family has an album for each child documenting the frosting faces over the years. What a treasure – that’s the album I would keep in a fire proof safe, along with a viewing copy on my coffee table.

The party never ends until the last person leaves. We’ve definitely carried home sleeping children from another child’s birthday party, because the celebrations never cease! And while my children’s heritage is a smattering of European ancestry heavily weighted toward the Irish, their cultural capital most certainly includes some Mexican traditions.

***All photos courtesy of Amy Conroy

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Related posts:

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2. Bicultural Birthdays Celebration | Puerto Rico
3. Bicultural Birthdays Celebration | An Introduction