Deliciously Sensual Read!

'Like Water for Chocolate' by Laura Esquivel

I adore Tita. 

I'm jealous of her uncanny ability to make things happen with her magical cooking. 

I love the heartbreak she underwent (thanks to “the Mexican tradition that the youngest daughter is not to marry but remain at home to take care for her mother”) that lasted years before finally getting what she’s been longing for (the love of Pedro and yes, sex but not marriage).  

I love it that she prepares food that make people cry... and make them blush, blush... extremely horny (I really need to have a copy of that “Quail on Red Petal Sauce” recipe ahora!). 

  “It was very pleasant to savor its aroma, 

for smells have the power to evoke the past, 

bringing back sounds 

and even other smells 

that have no match 

in the present.”

I love it that Tita was born on a great tide of tears (literally!) while her tyrannical, pregnant mother, Mama Elena, was chopping onions. 




 

“… it doesn’t matter to me what you did, 

there are some things 

that shouldn’t be given so much importance, 

if they don’t change what is essential.”

I have admired Tita the first time I read the book (after graduation from college).  After re-reading it a month ago, I realized that my understanding of her has deepened. Her struggles have more sense now. The choices she made less stupid. And most of all, I can empathize with her passion for food. Its power to influence... its power to comfort. 

You can actually say that food has magic... however you look at it.  

“Anything could be true or false, 

depending on whether one believed it.”

Seriously, wouldn’t you wish to have that ability to affect the people with the food you personally prepared?  If that's the case, I'll buy all the quails available (San Rafael in Bulacan is touted as the Quail Capital?)  and all the red roses in Dangwa and start doing that recipe. Para lahat happy.     

“She’s wasn’t riding alone – 

she carried her childhood beside her, 

in the cream fritters she had enclosed in a jar in her saddlebag.”