Pabellón criollo

Pabellón criollo is a Venezuelan version of the traditional rice and beans combination found throughout the Caribbean. It is a plate of rice, shredded beef and stewed black beans, often with a side of fried sweet plantains, and it is considered by many Venezuelans to be their national dish. This is one of the favorite meals of my children. But it also has a special place in my heart. Here is why.
When my youngest son was five years old, he had a medulloblastoma, a malignant brain tumor. He had surgery emergently to remove the tumor, but it left him with a significant disability called posterior fossa syndrome, or cerebellar mutism. Right after surgery, he was unable to move the right side of his body, he was mute, and he was very irritable and uncooperative. So not only did he have cancer, he also was changed overnight into a child that we did not recognize and did not feel like we could communicate with.
We were assured that this would gradually improve, that he would regain much or all of the things that he had lost. It was very hard to feel confident of that, especially as days turned into weeks, and we were nearing when he would begin radiation treatment, which would last 6 weeks and then be followed by a year of chemotherapy.
Ethan was initially hospitalized for two weeks after his surgery. Shortly after our return home we were invited to our closest friend's house, and she served pabellón criollo. The day did not start well. Ethan didn't want to see people, he became increasingly agitated, and I had a concommitant drop in mood, reduced to tears. We were ready to go home almost minutes after our arrival. Instead, we went outside, sat on a blanket in the sun, and took a moment to try and regain equilibrium. Ethan gradually calmed down, and Kineret brought a plate of pabellón criollo out to him. He couldn't feed himself, but he smiled when the first bite went into his mouth. Smiles were rare events indeed in those days, and a mirror back to the Ethan that we knew. It was a success. Pabellón criollo had saved the day. We left with ALL of the leftover pabellón criollo in containers, enough to feed perhaps 20 people, feeling sad and yet a bit more hopeful that we would indeed survive this catastrophe.

Hallacas, Pan de Jamon, Turron Alicante, y Ron

We had a Venezuelan Christmas last night, via Miami. Hallacas are a variation on tamales. Instead of being wrapped in corn husks, they are wrapped in banana leaves, and instead of being steamed, they are boiled. The banana leaves impart a distinctive flavor to the harina maiz, and while they are cooking you know that you are about to have them--the smell is also quite distinctive. The filling of the Hallaca is delicious--

it is a mixture of pork, beef, and chicken, mixed with green olives, raisins, and spices--the mixture of vinegar, salt, and sweet is reminiscent of a Christmas tradition of my youth, Mince Pie. These themes are echoed in the pan jamon, which is a rolled bread, with ham, olives, and raisins, in pretty much equal parts. I love the celebration of holidays with distinctive food--it matters not whether I celebrate that holiday or not. The idea that you make foods once a year, but every year, is a tradition that I participate in enthusiastically. It is a way to be connected with the changes of the year across a lifetime--offering bot comforti and familiarity.