Live Chickens

Today driving along the West Side Highway at a snails pace I looked down at a dead chicken laying in the road, and that's when it hit me maybe I do have something to blog about. Staring at that chicken brought back memories from a long time ago, when I was fresh out of graduate school and working as an in house temp for Liz Claiborne. At the time I worked in Textiles typing contracts 8 hours a day. I remember my office mate Liz who was Puerto Rican sharing the story of the Santería with me. She told me how people in her neighborhood would go out in the middle of the night and stand in the crossroad holding a paper bag with live chickens inside, then throw it up in the air. Sitting all day typing those boring contracts I learned a lot about her and the world she came from.  Now years later stuck in traffic and staring down at a dead chicken I remembered her and the stories we shared. I love animals and certainly don't condone throwing live chickens on the highway, but who am I to judge as I put away the left over chicken I made for dinner tonight. Maybe the Santería chicken laying there, died for a more noble cause than mine.

Tonight I prepared fried yucca for my family's dinner, a dish my Peruvian husband taught me to make. I think, yes it really is true, New York brings together people from all walks of life. It is a melting pot. I also think I'm not so different from my Lithuanian Catholic mother who learned to make chopped liver and noodle kugle for my Jewish father's family. 

I hope this will be a place where everyone can share their traditions and memories.

My favorite Peruvian cookbook