February break and Sofia went to visit David in Brooklyn for three days, which means my house was empty of children for three days, which means Eduardo and I were alone, which means I cooked for two and the portions were so small I felt like I was playing with a toy kitchen. Cooking for two after cooking for twenty feels like playing guitar with one string — technically possible, emotionally unsatisfying.
But I used the quiet to plan the renovation in detail. Rafael the contractor came back with measurements and estimates. The wall comes down in March. The new kitchen will have double the counter space, a bigger stove, a pantry wall, and an island counter with seating for four. The island is important because the island means people can sit IN the kitchen while I cook, which is how Mami kitchen in Bayamon worked — everyone was in the kitchen, on top of each other, in each other way, and the food was better because of the proximity. You cannot cook alone. You need the noise. You need the bodies. You need someone sitting on the counter eating tostones before they hit the plate.
Eduardo signed the check for the deposit. He did not argue about the cost. He said, Carmen, the kitchen makes you happy. This is the most direct statement Eduardo has ever made about my emotional wellbeing and I stood there holding the check and looking at him and I said, Eduardo, you make me happy too. He said, I know. But the kitchen makes you happy-happy. There is a difference. He is right. There is a difference between happy and happy-happy, and happy-happy is what I feel in the kitchen, at the stove, with sofrito in the oil and family at the table and the sound of eating filling the room. Happy-happy. Eduardo named it. I will keep it.
Mami came for dinner every night this week, same as always. Her routine does not change for renovation plans or school breaks or the absence of grandchildren. Her routine is: arrive at 5:30, sit in chair, critique sofrito, eat dinner, drink cafe, go home at 8. The routine is the rope she holds in the fog. The routine is the path through the forest. She knows the path. The path leads to my kitchen. The kitchen leads to food. The food leads to her. Every night. Every single night.
Mami came on Thursday the same as always, and I made this rice because it is the kind of dish that does not ask anything of you except that you be present—the peas and the broth and the sofrito do the work, and you just stand there listening to them. When Eduardo said there is a difference between happy and happy-happy, this is the dish I was making. It has the same bones as arroz con gandules, the same logic as every rice my mother’s mother ever made in Bayamon: one pot, good broth, something simmering in a house full of people. The new kitchen is still six weeks away. Until then, this is enough. It is more than enough.
Bahamian Peas & Rice
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice
- 1 can (15 oz) pigeon peas or black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed
- 3 slices thick-cut bacon, chopped
- 1 small yellow onion, finely diced
- 1/2 green bell pepper, finely diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
- 2 1/2 cups chicken broth
- 1 tsp dried thyme
- 1 bay leaf
- 1/2 tsp salt, or to taste
- 1/4 tsp black pepper
- 1 tbsp olive oil (if needed)
Instructions
- Render the bacon. In a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat, cook the chopped bacon until crisp and the fat has rendered, about 5 minutes. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving the drippings in the pot.
- Build the base. Add olive oil if the pot looks dry, then add the onion and bell pepper. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Add the tomatoes. Pour in the diced tomatoes with their juices and stir to combine. Let cook 2–3 minutes, stirring, until the mixture thickens slightly and the liquid reduces a bit.
- Toast the rice. Add the rice to the pot and stir well to coat every grain in the tomato mixture. Cook for 1–2 minutes, stirring, until the rice smells slightly nutty.
- Simmer. Add the chicken broth, drained peas, thyme, bay leaf, salt, and black pepper. Stir to combine and bring to a full boil over medium-high heat. Once boiling, reduce heat to low, cover tightly, and cook for 22–25 minutes without lifting the lid, until the rice is tender and the liquid is fully absorbed.
- Rest and finish. Remove from heat and let the pot sit covered for 5 minutes. Discard the bay leaf, fluff gently with a fork, and fold in the reserved bacon. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Serve hot, directly from the pot.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 285 | Protein: 10g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 47g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 530mg