Many feminists rightly have criticized the image of the kitchen as a place where women have been limited to serve others and, therefore, a place that limits them in a role of servitude. Meredith Abarca, in Voices in the Kitchen, says it is important to also recognize the kitchen as a woman’s space, a space she has claimed for feeding the family, meeting with friends; a unique space to share “chistes” and story-telling as well a space for the senses like touch, smell, and taste. For my grandma, and for many women, the kitchen has been both. In claiming her space, I think she felt a sense of independence, autonomy, and success. 

 

 

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       The kitchen is where my family exists most wholly. After long days apart, we reunite in the kitchen and enjoy a meal. In both my grandma’s house and my house, we don’t really have a dining room, just a big table in the kitchen. For this reason, the kitchen has become a sacred place.

   Whether good or bad, my grandma likely spent much of her life in the kitchen. She was there helping her mother as she was growing up; then she got married at 18 and was soon cooking large amounts of food for the many house guests from Mexico and for her 5 children. She opened a restaurant eventually that required tireless hours over a hot stove 7 days a week. And until her recent death, she continued to be a regular source of sustenance for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I recognize that the kitchen may have defined a large part of her identity.

    Most of her dishes spontaneous with whatever ingredients she had at that moment. Because of this, it has been a struggle to recreate the food I loved. It has pushed me to reach out to my sister, my cousins, and my aunt/uncles to see how each of us remembers how she made her dishes.