Dear Luki,

At the beginning of this year, I made two resolutions. The first, was to write a letter to you about your grandpa every week and, as you can see, I’ve been able to keep up with it really well. The second, however, did not fare the same fate. I said I was going to cook dinner every night in an attempt to improve my culinary skills and, to be honest, I can’t remember the last time I was responsible for making an entire meal.

The truth is that I’m actually really amazed at myself for keeping up with the weekly letters because, usually, I’m not very good at follow through. As you get older, I’m sure you’ll realize that I’m the parent who’s really great at dreaming up outlandish projects, and your dad’s the one who excels at executing them in a reasonable manner.

That’s not to say that I’ve given up on my dreams of learning to cook, I just have to figure out how to do so in a way that fits into my schedule. And attempting to make a seven course meal on a Tuesday, only to become discouraged and give up altogether, is not the answer.

Anyway, the reason it’s so important for me to learn to cook is because it breaks my heart into a million pieces that you will live in a world without your grandpa’s fried plantains.

Your grandpa could cook, Luki. He could cook really, really well.

I have such vivid memories of growing up and seeing your grandma and grandpa in the kitchen making dinner together. They had a very precise method of preparing meals, and there were certain things that your grandpa always did. He cut and deboned beef and poultry, he peeled everything, he did all the frying, he made the white rice, and he washed the dishes. Always.

Your grandma is still an incredible cook, but she often says that, without your grandpa by her side, she feels like she’s missing a limb. The other day, she tried to fry some plantains and ended up with exploding oil that spilled all over the floor and sent her running for cover to a corner of the kitchen.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what made your grandpa such a good cook, and I think that a big part of it has to do with how meticulous he was about food. In general, your grandpa was a really laid back, easygoing person, but in the kitchen, there were certain things he did not tolerate.

For example, he considered garlic powder to be an abomination and refused to use it in anything he prepared. Yes, it takes longer to peel and mash fresh garlic with a mortar and pestle (a garlic press was also an outlawed item in his kitchen), but he believed the results were well worth it. Another prohibited item? Bottled lime juice. Even if the container said 100% natural, he refused to believe it was the same as what he squeezed from a fresh lime. Mind you, he only squeezed limes with his hand — that lime squeezer gadget they sell at specialty kitchen stores was not to be trusted. And don’t get me started on frozen items, which he refused to consider real food and often referred to as “plastic meals.”

It may seem that he was nitpicking, but the fact of the matter is that his eccentricities in the kitchen resulted in some of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life.

I truly hope that, unlike me, you inherit some of his culinary talents, Luki. But even if you don’t end up excelling behind a stove, make sure to always go the extra mile and put the best ingredients into everything you set out to do.

Love,

Mom