Vanessa del Valle

Vanessa del Valle is an avid cook currently living and learning about her Puerto Rican heritage in Nevada City, California.

Archives            

Oh Heavenly Barbacoa

Septemer 2000 - At this moment, I can happily say I am smelling the greatest smell the nose of mankind has ever sniffed. No, it's not the smell of money or fame (though I haven't experienced much of either of those particular scents and wouldn't know them to begin with). What is this remarkable aroma, you ask? Why, it's that wonderful, tantalizing smell of a lit and happily grilling barbecue, of course! What does this have to do with Puerto Rican culture? Well my Puerto Rican brothers and sisters, everything.

It is widely believed that the native Puerto Ricans, the Tainos, were the inventors of the barbecue grill. Certainly we derive the modern English word "barbecue" from their native "barbacoa." While I personally have no proof that my ancestors were the first to tie some sticks together over a flaming coal pit, happily throwing some shrimp on their rustic "barbies," I have no reason to believe they weren't. Pinchos and lechon alone are enough proof for me, that's for sure. And a perfectly grilled morcilla? Nothing on Earth can come close.

The wonderful thing about a barbecue is its potential for simplicity. Whether you're cooking on a tricked-out, gas-powered Weber or simply a hole you dug in the ground and filled with coals, it doesn't take much effort after you've thrown on the goods-- meat, fish or veggie. While careful and loving attention always brings about the best result, a faithful barbecue does all the work for you (short of flipping the burgers) generously allowing you to play host to your guests, pets or television set. As far as flavor goes, there's no comparison to that heady smoke flavor. So intoxicating and addicting is the fresh-grilled, smokey quality in barbecued food that whole companies devote themselves to selling terrible, bottled liquid imitations. We Puerto Ricans know better.

It's still summer here in California, and my New York-Puerto Rican father is in his glory, bringing home sausage, chicken and vegetables to grill outside on our little three-legged Weber grill. He's searched in vain for his beloved morcilla, the dark-hued blood sausage so many Puerto Ricans hold dear to their hearts. I've promised him that I will bring some back, keep it safe in a carry-on when I return from the island in November. It's our Indian Summer here in the foothills-- warm, the perfect barbecue weather. The evening air fills with that magical aroma-- meat on sticks over fire. How primal it is, ancient in fact. Yet after thousands of years, we can't help but return to it. In America, the smell of grilling marks our summertime and our patriotic holidays-- try to imagine the 4th of July without hot dogs on grills. I haven't yet experienced pinchos in PR, but when I do I have a feeling they'll give me that same nostalgic feeling. Is it a feeling of oneness with our past and the ancient people who gave us these perfect methods of cooking our beloved foods? Is it the memories we associate with these aromas? Or is it simply that these foods are delicious, always were and always will be?

I can't say. But I know one thing for sure-- my father just finished grilling chicken marinated in garlic and oregano. I see a plate of sausages, crisp and brown on the counter. Isn't it in the true nature of every Puerto Rican to know when something delicious is being served? May all Puerto Ricans celebrate this simple, wonderful form of cooking in these last few pleasant days of the year. Buen appetito.