A Record of a Time
What I wrote for my IG caption, but couldn't post 'cause it was too long.
It’s true what they say about books being a chapter in the author’s life. (Actually––does anybody say that? Let’s roll with it.) Mine holds a few.
Fall-2022 me had decidedly quit food writing, feeling hopeless about the dwindling industry, when out of the blue Mehreen Karim snuck into my DM’s with a project that would lift me back up. I had no idea what long road lay ahead, but I was eager, and at times quite nervous, to walk down it. The project? A plant-based series of four with her, Ria Elciario-McKeown, and Srishti Jain.
Winter-2023 me moved back to New York in January with my partner Marcel, to whom I owe so much as one of my biggest stewards in the kitchen, since he first taught me how to make spaghetti in our teens. On this New York return, I had taken with me a renewed love and appreciation for California cuisine. Carrying in mind its lush LA farmers markets, a land rich in flavorful produce, and how effortlessly it weaves together myriad cultures across its cities. Carrying also, a deeper understanding and appreciation for the Indigenous cook’s approach, and where the two overlap: a focus on regionality and seasonality.
I used both as my compass, embracing being Mexican-American, with what I had, wherever I was, and however inspiration decided to strike. To innovate, after all, is a very Mexican thing to do.
2023 me wrote so much of it relying heavily on Samin Nosrat’s teachings in Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, as she has been another steward in my culinary journey, making it my guide and touchstone. The Vegetarian Flavor Bible by Karen Page served me as well whenever I got stuck on the intangibles of flavor combination ideation. I also relied on the taste buds of my love, heavily—who gave his (at times, hard-earned) blessing on every single recipe, that of his brother Brandon, our friend Sep, at times our neighbors, and my mom and sister for a spell whilst in California that fall.
2008 me is the one who started cooking, because it’s when I went vegetarian, and my mom lovingly (I say this with sarcasm) responded with, “it’s not a restaurant!” Which meant, I’d have to learn how to cook my own meals. At first my mushrooms and zucchini were soggy, and my rice wasn’t always quite right, but my love for food would push me into refining my ability to cook—even if I did burn or undercook things, many, many times in the process.
2017 me is the one who first started cooking “professionally.” It’s when I decided to follow in Anthony Bourdain’s footsteps and become a “kitchen pirate” as a prep cook––cutting my teeth, and very literally, a piece of my thumb. Because, as an aspiring food writer, I decidedly needed to have the experience. And I was right. What I didn’t realize, however, was how much I would fall in love with cooking itself.
2018 me is the one who moved to New York for the first time, and failed to get into the only Plant-Based culinary school that I knew of. It was wildly expensive. To make up for it, I worked in a couple of kitchens to keep educating myself, started veganizing Mexican recipes at home, and soon after started writing again.
2023 me lost a lot of sleep over the anxiety I had over what I thought the Mexican-American community would think of my recipes. They’re not purist, nor are they meant to be, but it’s simply because that hasn’t been my experience.
2024 me at some point decided, those that would understand would find me. I slept better. (The girls that get it, get it, and all that.)
This book is an ode to Mexican vegans and vegetarians who sit at the fringes of our meat-centric culture, to be sure. I hope plant-based eaters enjoy it all! But, I also hope it inspires meat eaters to explore de-centering meat, and what that can look like within Mexican cuisine––which of course, I’m not the first to do, nor will I be the last to.
It’s also an ode to soy, to the influence of East Asian flavors and cuisine in Mexican and vegan cooking, to mushrooms, and all their varieties in Mexico and in Mexican Indigenous cooking, to hibiscus and plantain and their African origin, to cumin and tempering spices and the South Asian influence and presence in Mexico; it’s a nod of acknowledgment to food ways, and how multiculturally rich Mexico is. The recipes are intended to reveal, as well as celebrate, all that “Mexican” and its cuisines encompass, while doing it in a way that felt creative and fresh to my 2023 self.
2024 me is who painstakingly went through all the edits, but of this I’ll spare you the details.
2025 me, present day, is the one who gets to celebrate this work, and all my past selves converging within 181 pages. Even if at times, I’ve wanted to go back to 2023 and 2024 to add things, or take them away—but this is the nature of book writing, I’ve learned. There’s always another “t” you want to cross, or “i” to dot. But at some point, you shut your eyes, and take that leap of faith. Let it be a record of a time.
❦
Pre-orders are open now! Apologies in advance if it’s all too much, I realize the world is on fire.
And, speaking of fire, here are some places to donate around LA:
Restore Altadena: Seeds for Healing
5PM Lucky has tons of links for GoFundMe’s that are updated daily!
Mutual Aid LA - you donate, they distribute!
Pasadena Humane - help our furry friends!
And, some places to donate towards relief in Palestine:
Alaa Asfour’s GoFundMe
Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
-
Because it bears mentioning, I’m in the midst of Valentine’s season with my poetry project/side hustle, ‘Te Amo’. Wherein I write personalized poems for your beloved, a la Cyrano, and send it off to your intended through the mail. 10% of sales will be donated to Altadena Girls til the end of February. More info: here and here. Email: cyranopost@gmail.com to get started.
This is my weekend shitake birria. Plant based!
I can't wait to see what all your past MEs have to share. The ones I've known have been very consistent in their talent, passion, and prowess, both writerly, and culinarily.