Rice and Beans

By -

a yellow bowl full of rice and beans
CC 2.0 Photo from Flickr

I think every culture has its own variation of rice and beans. My Guatemalan friend calls it gallo pinto, my Jamaican friend says rice and peas, to me it's arroz con frijoles. Never would I think rice and beans could have much ritual meaning. I didn't really even like rice much growing up because Mexican rice is very tomato-based, and you fry it before cooking, so it's not as fluffy as other types of rice dishes. Beans, on the other hand, were a staple of my childhood. It was my favorite food ever. Frijoles de la olla, refried beans, beans into a sauce to be poured over a quesadilla (my family calls this an enfrijolada), and literally every other version of beans is so good. 

I thought the simplicity of the dish meant that it wasn't special. It wouldn't hold any other significance than being comfort food, that it's easy to make. It's the first type of food I've learned to make.

In the very, very beginning of the second chapter of Religion in the Kitchen, rice and beans make their appearance. Perez introduces their kitchen work with the foods they're cooking, followed up immediately with this quote: "'The orishas are not hung up on perfection'" (Religion in the Kitchen, 53). It's a very beautiful way to look at a practice, this idea that perfection isn't necessary in order to be a good practitioner. Rice and beans aren't something really to compare this to, but I think the fact that the orishas eat rice and beans too is important. It's not just a simple dish because it holds more meaning than that. It's comforting, it's good, and it's something that unites people across cultures. Simplicity doesn't mean that it's not suitable for religious consumption of any sort. 

What makes food really worthwhile is the process, the emotions, the care put into it. The best meals are made by our families. My cooking will never be as nice as the food my grandmother makes, nor as nice as my mom's, but someday maybe someone will say that same thing about what I make. Ochun, I believe, is flexible, she makes do with what she can. Nothing really, then, besides what is outlined in the list of what literally can't be fed to the gods, is off-limits, no matter how simple the meal. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Amidst the Pandemic

By -
Image
I think having the opportunity to take Smells and Bells and then experiencing a worldwide pandemic came with good timing. Oftentimes, we’re so rushed to get from one one place to another that we miss out on what happens around us. We’re so accustomed to the lifestyle of being busy that it has become the norm for many of us. However, the pandemic has forced us to slow down. We’re now appreciating everything that we had previously taken for granted and noticing things in our surroundings that we have never noticed before.  Take this quarantining/social distancing as an opportunity to be more aware of what you experience through the senses. I don’t think my senses have necessarily heightened over the past 5 weeks, but I am actively making the choice to pay more attention to what I see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. I like going on nature/mindfulness walks and basking in the sunshine out in my backyard. This morning, I could hear a faint noise from the wind, hear the birds chirpin...
Read more

Food in the Afterlife

By -
Image
In Religion in the Kitchen: Cooking, Talking, and the Making of Black Atlantic Traditions , Perez talks of Ashabi and her grandchildren providing food offerings to their ancestors. This immediately reminded me of the practice of food sacrifice in early China. I've taken Chinese language classes for about 7 years now and in one of the lessons, we learned about food as well as the history of food in Chinese culture. Ashabi and her grandchildren would give food offerings to their ancestors every day. This included nine beverages (coffee, liquor, and water mixed with sugar and molasses) and nine square pieces of coconut topped with red palm oil and guinea pepper. The offerings would also include whatever food was dropped on the ground. In their house, food dropping on the floor signified more than it would in common American households. It signified that the ancestors wanted that food and had willingly made it fall to the floor. They also used dishware that had been chipped which was...
Read more