Sitting at my desk with black beans and yellow rice from the Cuban restaurant in the neighborhood, I proofread our latest issue of Angels on Earth while I ate my lunch. It took me by surprise when I had to stop in the middle of an angel story and reach for a tissue. I was crying! But not over an author’s dramatic retelling. Not this time.
Sophie’s Cuban Cuisine gives each patron two complimentary servings of their “secret green sauce,” made fresh daily with jalapeno peppers. At least that’s the only ingredient they’ll share. I always ask for a third serving, even if I have to pay an extra fifty cents, and I put all three on my rice and beans. The spiciness of the sauce varies from day to day, depending on the potency of the peppers. The variation doesn’t matter to me, since I like my food spicy enough to cause tears to drip from my eyes. No complaints here today! The sauce hit the jackpot! I guess I got used to such over-the-top hotness by eating all that Cajun food down in New Orleans, where I grew up.
My habits haven’t changed much at all, now that I’m cooking in the North. In fact, my daughter Louisiana’s first word (besides Mama) was “spicy,” and she was the only child I knew who added a liberal dusting of black pepper to most things she ate. I texted her at college with the memory. Right away, she texted back. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “It’s been a rough morning of classes, so I needed the smile!”
I guess angels had made sure today’s batch of secret green sauce was potent enough to bring me to tears and my thoughts to a college girl who still needs her mom.
