When I was young and hungry for learning, I used to watch my grandmother cook every time I got a chance to, and she always used to say to me, ¨cooking is an art not a task, and as every famous art piece tends to have a frivolous story behind it, every great recipe tends to have an incredible story too. ¨ Well, to be quit honest, I don’t agree that all recipes have an amazing story, but one thing is undeniable, the ones that do have a story, make the palate of the human body tremble even before the food touches the mouth. Having said that, let me tell you a story that will make your mouths wet, your jeans tight, your stomach mad, and your brain smile, that is, the story of my grandmother´s Pabellin Criollo.
It all begins in Barinas Venezuela in the year 1934, my grandmother had just been married off to a man from the city- my grandfather Martin. As my grandma Chepa describes it, these times were full of confusion as she was married very young and her biggest worry was that she had no idea how to cook. Her firsts months as a wife she says were horrific because my grandfather was accustomed to fine city food, and my grandmother only knew simple country plates, which she cooked with no knowledge of good cooking techniques. Feeling ashamed for not providing her husband with food worthy of his palate, she began to research in the town library, how to cook properly so that food would not burn, or so that it didn’t taste the same all the time. Weeks passed by and my grandmother learned more and more with each visit to the library. Her routine basically consisted on cooking all day trying to emulate what she read in the library books, and failing over and over again because unfortunately she was trying recipes that required machines that she did not have and so, she tried to cook them by hand and accomplished nothing. Tired of emulating recipes she could never get right, she decided it was time to branch out of the cooking books and start her own experiments.
Chepa, my grandmother, became as she explains it, obsessed with making a recipe that carried her own flavor, something unique, something refreshing, but most importantly, something that carried the Venezuelan flag in its core. After much reminiscing, Chepa decided she would perfect the Venezuelan national plate: the Pabellon Criollo. The Pabellon Criollo has been for decades the national plate of Venezuela because it consists on a perfect balance of sweet, salty, crispy, tenderness, and deliciousness. The actual plate is made up of various components such as, shredded meet, white rice, fried plantains,and black beans. The seasoning varies from household to household but the overall plate always taste and looks relatively the same. However, in my grandmother’s mind, she was taking on the challenge to make her Pabellon Criollo worthy of her husband palate, and the best in the world.
For many months my grandmother cooked the Pabellon Criollo but each time with different seasonings, different meets, different vegetable combinations, and different methods. Chepita told me when I asked her about how many times she failed before getting the recipe just right, that she felt like Einstein in that each failed attempt was not a loss but a rather a win in that she felt closer to her desired results. In her mind, she said that there was no stopping until she got just one recipe right. Her first attempt she remembers as chaotic (because in order to get the plate right everything has to be timed perfectly so that when a person eats the plate, everything is perfectly warm), for the rice was overcooked and dry, the meet was extremely salty and wet, and the beans were rough and without flavor. Her followed attempts were of course much better because time is the best teacher, but, she still felt that her recipe was nowhere near perfection so she decided to stop making the plate as a whole, and first perfect the different components of the plate.
Chepa began with the meet. She began by buying different meats and cooking them in the same way as to learn how the same seasoning taste differently in the different meats. After figuring out the tenderest cut for her plate, she moved on to the beans. Some might think that cooking beans is an easy task but, in Chepita´s world, this was no joke. For her the beans were the most important aspect of the plate because they could end up extremely salty, or dry, or overly wet, or flavorless, and her intent was for the beans to be wet but not dripping, salty but not acidic, and soft but not to the point of collapse upon touch. After finding the right balance between all of these components within the beans, Chepita moved on to the rice.
Again, for some, making white rice is a simple task, but for Chepita, the rice was the light of the plate, and if the light was faulty, then the whole plate was ominous in taste. She wanted her rice to posses flavor but not to the point where it took away from the meat and the beans. In other words, her rice had to be the perfect complement to the meat and beans. She began by cooking the rice with a combination of red peppers and onions, with just a pinch of salt but the results were to flavorful for her intention. She then tried the rice with just salt, and little tomato strips, but the results where to sweet for her plate. Finally, she made a rice with salt, garlic, and olive oil, and she found the light at the end of the tunnel in relation to her plate. The last step towards finding the perfect balance was the easiest- the fried plantain.
Again, for some, making white rice is a simple task, but for Chepita, the rice was the light of the plate, and if the light was faulty, then the whole plate was ominous in taste. She wanted her rice to posses flavor but not to the point where it took away from the meat and the beans. In other words, her rice had to be the perfect complement to the meat and beans. She began by cooking the rice with a combination of red peppers and onions, with just a pinch of salt but the results were to flavorful for her intention. She then tried the rice with just salt, and little tomato strips, but the results where to sweet for her plate. Finally, she made a rice with salt, garlic, and olive oil, and she found the light at the end of the tunnel in relation to her plate. The last step towards finding the perfect balance was the easiest- the fried plantain.
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Chepita tells me that the plantain was easy to cook but not easy to find. As she puts it, plantain taste differently depending on the season so only in summer can plantain be mature enough to be fried and for it to soft and sweet. After she found the perfect balance with the plate, she thought everything tasted perfect but something was missing- something very important. At the time she had no idea what her plate was missing because by this point, it had salty components, sweet components, wet and dry components, and an incredible array of textures. Months passed and she neglected to cook the pabellon until she found the missing ingredient that would make her pabellon, the best pabellon in town.
One chilly afternoon in June of 1943, ten years after cheap began cooking, she was eating in an Italian restaurant and she ordered a exquisite plate that she does not remember the name too, but, she does remember what made the plate unique. The meal had a combination like the pabellon in that it had sweet, salty, wet, and dry components, but one thing that made it all come together was- a sunny-side up egg, on top of the meal. That was it said my grandmother Chepa, what her pabellon was missing was the egg.
One chilly afternoon in June of 1943, ten years after cheap began cooking, she was eating in an Italian restaurant and she ordered a exquisite plate that she does not remember the name too, but, she does remember what made the plate unique. The meal had a combination like the pabellon in that it had sweet, salty, wet, and dry components, but one thing that made it all come together was- a sunny-side up egg, on top of the meal. That was it said my grandmother Chepa, what her pabellon was missing was the egg.
When she got home, she says that the first thing she did was cook the pabellon, call in her whole family, and present the final plate- Chepa´s Pabellon Criollo. Ten years in the making for this one plate to touch the lips of my grandmother´s husband (who was never allowed to eat any of her attempts before), and my grandmother was a nervous wreck. The first fork came up to my grandfather´s mouth and as he puts it, ¨it made him dry¨. He explains that just the aroma of the plate made his body tremble in excitement. He said that he finished his plate in 50 minutes without saying a word while my grandmother died slowly watching him. Once the plate was finished, my grandfather said these words to my grandmother: ¨ Ten years I have waited for this day, ten years I have seen your progress from cooking horribly to cooking aright, but today Chepa, today, you have exceeded all of my expectations, and because of that, I am a happy man, not because you cooked me a delicious meal, but because you dedicated 10 years of your life to make me a meal that you knew would make me happy, and that, that has more meaning than anything else I have seen in this world.¨
I cannot stress what my grandmother felt at this moment because when I asked her, she began to cry when she heard my grandfather tell her these words once more a couple of days ago. One thing is obvious in this story and that is that food transcends logic. I respect this recipe and my grandmother for perfecting it because it is truly an art piece in my family´s museum of happy memories. Chepa´s Pabellon Criollo is easily the best plate I have ever eaten.
I cannot stress what my grandmother felt at this moment because when I asked her, she began to cry when she heard my grandfather tell her these words once more a couple of days ago. One thing is obvious in this story and that is that food transcends logic. I respect this recipe and my grandmother for perfecting it because it is truly an art piece in my family´s museum of happy memories. Chepa´s Pabellon Criollo is easily the best plate I have ever eaten.
Recipe:
Ingredients
Steps: Rice:
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