Making Salteñas

1 July 2009

There's something real about working

flour with naked hands--

more sensitive than any pastry knife, my fingers

blend more naturally than stainless steel.

Water and flour become cool,

pliant dough against my skin.

Given my mother's unused kitchen,

we could have mixed the dough in half the time,

reduced the strengthening on our forearms,

the time spent learning where my sister-in-law

learned to make salteñas and empanadas.

We laid a foundation

and I asked where the napkins were kept:

"En la puerta."

"...the door? In the door? Oh, the Pantry!"

"Si! En la puerta."

...

"...Where? ...um... Donde?"

"Abajo."

"Abajo?"

"A-BA-jo..." A slight nod toward the floor

"OH! Abajo!"

She opened la puerta to the language of her heart,

and all because we took the long way around.