a biteful of memories

One of the things I remember most about growing up in Venezuela was the culinary expeditions I used to embark on with my mother when I was a teenager. Mom would have called them simple errands, but, to me, they were joyous adventures in search of the freshest loaf of oatmeal bread or the perfect cut of filet mignon nestled amongst coveted opportunities to share time with my mom. Contrary to what all the adolescent parenting books claimed, I really did like my mom and loved hanging out with her and I am sure these moments where crucial in molding my passion for food.Back when I was a kid, food shopping was a daylong affair in Caracas (Venezuela’s capital city). For meat, one went to the butcher. For fish, the ;pescaderia;, or fish store (only open in the first hours of the morning) was a must. Mom would visit most of these places while I was in school but every so often she would pick me up after school so we could run the fruit errand (one of my favorite spots) together.For fruits and vegetables mom went to only one store: Siempre Fresco (“Always Fresh”) where the equally fresh young Italian owner would pay a little too much attention to our needs, offering up free slices of papaya or tomatoes to sample. The juice bar up front guaranteed a delicious sampling of the products while we shopped for them and I have many fond memories of slurping an unforgettable Batido de Parchita (Passion Fruit shake) while following mom around the maze of tropical fruits. If Siempre Fresco’s selection was not up to par, mom would head to the fruit trucks: two inconspicuous cargo trucks parked on a windy, lush road in Las Mercedes that were overflowing with ripe fruits and vegetables hanging precariously off molded hooks for proud display. Bags of oranges and lemons left a citrus trail of delight that could be enjoyed two blocks away. Bananas of all shapes and sizes served as proud trophies to this lush country’s tropical sun. The trucks could always be found in the same spot, every afternoon between 2 and 6 and they always promised sweet, ripe produce. It was from these trucks that mom would buy her pineapples for her famous Pineapple Upside-Down cake. Mom made this dessert to end a glorious evening, whether it be celebrating my sister’s miraculous B in Math (hip hip hooray!) or dazzling my father’s boss for dinner. This dessert is a guaranteed showstopper and incredibly easy to make. Mom passed away over ten years ago and I have been living in the States longer than that, but I still recall fondly those lazy afternoons in Caracas filled with great fruit and memorable conversation.