I attribute my early love for food to four Cuban women in my family, my grandmother Ninfa, my mother Ivonne, my aunt Chunchi and my godmother Zurina.

All of these women are great cooks in their own right and have inspired me in different ways at different times in my life. It was their Cuban cooking that attracted me to the kitchen as a youngster.

While living with my grandmother, Ninfa, as a young adolescent I began to take interest in the kitchen and learn in more depth, the basics of Cuban cookery.

Honestly, I didn't have much choice, Ninfa put me to peeling and crushing garlic, chopping onions and peppers for the sofrito, she taught me the ways of the pressure cooker, the exact method for perfect white rice and essential Cuban recipes such as frijoles negros, picadillo, yuca con mojo, ropa vieja, patas con garbanzos, lengua en salsa, etc. My grandmother (Abuela in Spanish) always encouraged me to learn to cook for myself in preparation for my voyage out into the world. She would stress the importance of nourishment, balanced meals and good cooking for good health. She was a harsh critic of American fast food culture and would simply not allow me, her grandson, to enter manhood unable to cook for himself.

Her frequent Cuban feasts were a way for her to gather friends and family and hold on to her beloved Cuban culture and its traditions, not an easy task in the Portland, Oregon of the 60's, 70's and 80's! Gathered around her kitchen table with the aroma of fresh café cubano permeating the room, she would tell stories of life in Cuba, the family still on the island and her hope that one day it (the island nation of Cuba) would be free. She was our medium, our raconteur and our teacher of Cuban tradition. She instilled in me the idea of keeping these traditions alive and not allowing them to melt away, lost to future generations.