Because when it gets cold we cook.

Latinos love to cook. All day everyday. The only thing we enjoy more than cooking is eating, or forcing other people to eat with us. Most of my favorite Mexican dishes are cooked in the winter time, when the temperature drops and no one wants to go outside--they just want to sit, eat, and chat. My best memories as a chunky little mejicanito were dipping Pan con Azucar y Canela into a warm mug of either Chocolate Mexicana (made with Chocolate Ibarra, of course) or Atole / Champurrado. There's something about the cold weather (as if it got that cold in Southern California) that, for me, has always equated with sweets--sweet breads, sweet drinks, sweet men, etc. I was too young to care much for the conversation of my elders but as long as they kept that delicious, crispy toast coming, and those mugs of thick, chocolaty liquid flowing they could talk all night as far as I was concerned. There was always room in my belly for the savory as well. My family never celebrated Christmas. In my youth while the children around me (my cousins and classmates) received presents to last them until their birthday's, the only thing I had to look forward to were Tamales. Didn't matter if they were filled with beef, chicken or pork. I'd gobble them up spicy or not. One after another, corn husks everywhere. Damn. What I'd give for one (five) now.

Korea as of late is very cold. I could say freezing but that would be an exaggeration. But to my Californian standards yes...my balls have icicles on them. These foods, the idea of these foods, are what keep me warm now--from inside out. Not having them here, readily available to me, is probably more difficult than not having my family. See my mentality? That's a true fatty, through and through. I'll have to make due and get creative. Making these delicacies from scratch could be very well impossible, depending what I can sniff out at the various import stores available here--but I just may attempt it.

There are two delicious treats I will partake in because they are easily made and result in a huge payoff. The first is not even a Mexican dish, it's a Cuban dish called Papas Rellenas (stuffed potato balls). My friends and I would make pilgrimages to a bakery in Burbank, California called Porto's Bakery where they specialize in Cuban sandwiches, desserts, as well as various Cuban appetizers and other popular international desserts. It's by far one of the best places I have ever eaten. Crazy-delicious. Anyway, I am missing these balls and plan on making a batch. Fried mashed potatoes filled with spicy meat? Hello! Can't wait. Along with this I'll pair a very popular Mexican alcoholic drink called Rompope. Plainly put, it's Mexican eggnog that nuns used to whip up in their boredom. Thank God for boredom. The bottle, most popular with a nun from the Santa Clara convent as mascot, reminds me of my grandmother. I recall her reaching for it, atop a shelf, too high for most to reach. She would stand on a chair, still barely reaching. She would pour some for the adults and only a small portion for the children, to taste. That flavor, that aroma, will always be with me. Egg. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Sugar. Rum or brandy. The reason she had it up so high was because it was so good my siblings, and cousins and I would guzzle it down like that yummy orange-flavored Triaminic (remember that? First addiction!). Drunkenness at eight-years-old. That's another thing Latinos love.

The winter is cold but I'm warmer now with my memories; of bread crumbs on my childhood belly, the women of my family gathered together wrapping cornmeal into husks, and my grandma drunkenly trying to place the bottle of rompope neatly back on the shelf.

(Recipe for Rompope here)