internet

It all started with Salpicon.

Nine years ago, Karla Tatiana Vasquez wanted to make a seasoned mince dish with radishes and fresh mint, a staple in El Salvador.

She called her grandmother, Mama Lucy, for the recipe. It satisfied her craving for salpigon—but it also made her wonder if there were any documented Salvadoran recipes she could readily consult.

When she looked online, she was dismayed to find only two cookbooks, both self-published and one of which had already sold out.

This month, Vasquez finally corrected the omission in her cookbook, SalviSoul Cookbook: Salvadoran Recipes and the Women Who Saved Them — A compilation of Salvadoran stories and recipes they desireor in other words, missing my motherland.

connection to her roots

Growing up, Vazquez was always looking for a connection to El Salvador, which she left as an infant in 1988, amid the country’s civil war. Her family moved to Los Angeles, where thousands of other Salvadorans also took refuge.

But food, the dishes made by her mother, grandmother and other women in her life, is the closest connection to her roots.

“I try to ease that pain that tells me you come from a place where you’re not sure you’re going to live [there] Again,” Vasquez said.

She often hears that people who leave El Salvador forget who they are or where they come from. This is not the reality Vasquez himself wanted.

“If I can figure out how to touch home and cook in the kitchen, then I know how to find myself within myself,” Vasquez said.

She began trying to write down recipes for Salvadoran dishes. But when Vasquez asked her mother to detail a recipe that included measurements for staples like arroz french fries, her mother couldn’t give her a straight answer. She would ask “How much salt was added to this dish?” Her mother would say “Oh Kara, your taste buds tell you” – Your color palette will tell you.

“I thought it was some mysterious thing that I didn’t have,” Vasquez said. Her grandmother would reassure her and tell her that it would all happen to her. Over time, it did.

(Her grandmother, one of her biggest supporters, recently passed away. Vasquez dedicated this cookbook to her).

salvi soul Featuring a range of Salvadoran dishes, the chapter is titled “Salvadorian Essentials” which lists pupusas de loroco (a small edible green flower) or riguas (a sweet corn cake wrapped in plantain leaves and filled with cheese or refried beans), and “Antojitos” (cravings), describing how to make empanadas de platano con leche.

And the recipes for conejo parillado (roasted rabbit) and ceviche de pescado she learned from Salvadoran women in Los Angeles

The beauty of Salvadoran cuisine is reflected on the page in shades of orange, pink and green, all inspired by Salvadoran produce such as jocotes, mamey, alguashte and mangoes. Vasquez said Salvadoran food is already very vibrant, and she channeled those colors onto the page.

“Salvadorian Cuisine loves flora and fauna. We love eating the edible flowers of El Salvador,” she said.

Interwoven in are personal anecdotes from the women who shared their recipes. “I feel like every immigrant has an adventure,” Vasquez said.

Salvadorans have one of the largest Latino populations in the United States, and Los Angeles is home to the largest Salvadoran diaspora.

Symbols of Salvis in Los Angeles can be seen everywhere, from panaderias and pupuserias to the corridors of our Salvadoran community in Union Pico, where Mr. Oscar Romero’s mural reminds Salvez that our saint is always looking out for us.

Nothing but Pupusas

When she talks about her project with other Salvadorans and other Latinos, she often hears the same refrain—that pupusas are the only identifiable Salvadoran food and nothing more.

Another person told her that the only interesting food in Latin America comes from Mexico, Puerto Rico, the Caribbean or Brazil. She was shocked.

“The myth is, there’s nothing, but I feel that way, and I bet there’s a lot of it, and I bet people just — we just repeat what we hear,” Vasquez said.

She began searching for what constituted Salvadoran cuisine and spoke with a Salvadoran anthropology professor, who told Vasquez that Salvadoran cuisine was fusion cuisine.

“We use a lot of ingredients that are native to Central America. Corn, tomatoes, beans, morels, things like that, those are all things that go into cooking. And then there are ingredients like plantains, right? I feel like those are definitely more Caribbean Hine because of how they got here from Africa,” Vasquez said.

She said Salvi Cuisine likes to experiment with different flavours: “We like sour, we like sour, we like bitter.”

Even the cooking methods come from different cultures, Vasquez said. Nuegados, for example, are deep-fried yucca patties topped with brown sugar molasses—when Vasquez thinks of nuegados, she thinks of Jewish hash browns.

And a lot of salvi cooking is also done over a fire, so many dishes have a fire-roasted flavor.

Reserve your opinion

Vasquez initially doubted she had enough to say in her cookbook. But she put aside that doubt and started using family recipes.

She knew her mother had mastered at least 40 recipes. She learned even more after talking to other women.

Vasquez said the women she interviewed reacted differently to her questions — some felt punished for not writing down all the details, others were embarrassed. Vasquez assured them that she did not question their methods.

Some people feel they have nothing to share, that their dish is not special, “nothing”. So instead of arguing with them, Vasquez asked them to share what they thought was nothing — and from there, she learned her recipe for a never-before-heard rooster like gallo en chicha, cooked with homemade wine It takes five days to make from scratch.

“I want to appreciate what you think is delicious, and once we figure out how to get there, I want to make sure we can still access it and replicate it,” Vasquez said. “I want to keep your point that we can do that with this recipe.”

Timing is everything

Vasquez began this journey in 2015 by creating an online community. She shares photos of different Salvadoran foods on her Salvi Soul Instagram and holds Facebook Live conversations with other Salvadoran chefs.

then in In 2020, the Los Angeles Times published an article about her efforts to bring Salvi Soul to life. The article pointed to an obstacle that Vázquez often encountered—that Salvadoran cuisine was unknown, and major publishers were unable to accept the unknown.

The article was crucial to Vasquez’s journey because it created what she calls “a huge buzz” and opened up more online connections.

This summer of 2020’s racial reckoning has forced companies to rethink their diversity practices.

Bon Appétit was criticized when he was a chef Sohla El-Waylly criticizes her former employer for diversity issues, Just like underpaid chefs of color.

Jenny Cummins’ controversial novel American Dirt — was highly praised by white audiences, but Criticized by Latino writers and readers – also highlights the publishing industry’s preference for white writers to retell immigrant experiences, as well as the lack of Latino representation in the industry.

All of this is crucial to understanding how Vasquez’s book ended up getting the green light years later from an agent who, Vasquez says, was “ecstatic” to have it published.

This cookbook contains 33 recipes in total. But Vasquez said she created more than just a cookbook, but a community of Salvadoran women, whether it was those from El Salvador on her team or those she met along the way in Los Angeles.

Her work doesn’t stop there. She is currently working on another concept. Currently, she’s eagerly awaiting the book’s release on April 30 and the community’s response.