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Do I need more or less to my story?
Sherley Francois
Professor Jesse Miller
English 110
September 15, 2017
Favorite Meal
“Two months after his defeat of Napoleon Bonaparte’s colonial forces, Jean-Jacques Dessalines proclaims the independence of Saint-Domingue, renaming it Ayiti after its original Arawak name.” To celebrate their freedom on January 1st, 1804, the newly freed slaves did what they could not do before.. eat soup. During the revolutionary war soup was off limits to all slaves , although they were doing all of the cooking. Fast forward 213 years later, in a traditional Haitian home we welcome the new year by making and serving what we now call soup joumou (squash soup). Soup Joumou is not only finger licking delicious but no matter the situation my family is facing I have grown to realize that we never allow our circumstances to withhold us from bringing this soup to life every single year.
As a child, I watched as my mother stayed up late every year to prepare the ingredients for the soup joumou. As for my father, he stays up as well, but, to watch television. He claims that cooking is not his “thing”, but he loves to eat. Prior to cooking, my older sister Shana and I pick out the three pots for the soups: one for our house. The other for guest, or anyone who may want some. The third pot is for my mothers church that distributes it to people who doesn’t have the opportunity to make their own.
At last we begin the process, although, I have just one job in the making of the soup, I always enjoy my families company as I watch my mother gather all of her spices onto the wooden cutting board as if she was born to do this. She places the butternut squash to the side for later, the main ingredient. One by one she chops the pwawo (green onions) and place it in the pillon (crushing bowl) as she’s singing one her favorite church song “si w wè map viv jodia se gras bondyè ki sou mwen” teasing and encouraging Shana and I to join in. We always do “ se pa anyen m fè pou sa se rete m rete m wè m konsa, kitte m louré e” using the crushing bowl as a drum, making our own beat as if we wrote the song. She adds cloves, maggi and salt into the crushing bowl. And I await until she passes the bowl to me, so I can crush and smash all those spices in to a fine combination. Being the person that I am, I always complain about my wrist hurting, when my mother tells me not to stop until its completely smashed. She ends up taking over my job because she knows what she needs better than I, of course. Shana, on the other hand has a bigger and better job than I. She is in charge of peeling potatoes, carrots and plantains. You’re probably wondering how is that a better job, well every little girl wants to be like their older sister, in my case I want to hold a knife and peel and slice as she does. “Cherie vini m pale w” my mother calls for my father into the kitchen. Although we haven’t gotten far into to the cooking, she already has something for him to taste. I suspect that she just wants him near her. He hurries into the kitchen tip-toing in his white socks because he moved too fast and forgot his slippers, as always. The tasting has begin and he knows this is his time to shine. My mother treats him as if he’s a tasting expert, no one other than my fathers opinion matters when it comes to her cooking. Whatever he may have tasted had to be good, he kissed her forehead and headed back to his section of the house. Mother seasons and prepares the beef to be cooked for a couple of hours as we all head to bed at around 2:30AM. It is still a mystery as to what time my mother wakes up in the morning because Shana and I are always awaken by the aroma of the soup and laughs of family already showing up. Soup Joumou day is not really a “get together” type of day but everyone shares and exchange soup as if they’re all different but in reality its all the same ingredients.
At around noon, Shana gets up first, only because she’s older and has much more energy in the morning than I. As for me, I chill in bed listening to the conversations going on in the kitchen and trying to guess who’s voice is who, I am always right because it is always the same four family members from my mothers side that actually comes over this early. I don’t rush into the kitchen, I know the soups are not going anywhere, lord knows we have enough for a whole month. After I gain my morning energy I get up and do my morning rituals, brushing and bathing really fast. Then, I proceed to the living room where I know everyone is by now because they have all already had their portions of soup. “Survey says!” Steve Harvey’s loud voice screamed from of the television so I know my father is home watching his favorite show. Everyone is on or near the long creamed circled couch, my father of course is centered to the television, my aunt Myrlande is next to him and their both lost into Family Feud. My two cousins Mimi and Pat are playing a cellphone game right next to my mother who is combing her mothers wig in her lap. My grandmother, Manman Mèn sits on the carpet, she says it makes her back feel better. She doesn’t eat her own cooking so she comes over to be fed by her children. I bend over to kiss Manman Mèn on the cheek first because she is closest to me from the circle. Also, I know if I don’t m ap gen madichon which is a “curse” for children who don’t respect the elderly. Anyone who is older than me is considered an elderly so I had to kiss everyone in the room, nothing I am not used to. I hurried with the kisses, by now the smell of the soup is so close that it makes my stomach feel completely empty and my mouth water. I head to the dining room first, where Shana is stuffing her face with most likely her second bowl of the famous joumou. I check to see how many bowls and pots of soup we received. I can honestly say this day is sort of like Christmas morning, but, with soup. We had four bowls and one pot. I know the pot is from my grandmother because she makes one for each of her daughters, luckily she only has two. I head to the kitchen and reach into the top left cabinet to get my yellow plastic Pokémon bowl and matching cup. The huge silver pot glistering with bright yellow soup juice dripping from the side is just starring at me. I get too excited and forget that the pot is still hot and reach for the lid and the heat rushed my fingers away. “Can you help me Shana” I yell, “ pick it up with the rag” she yells back, already knowing what I need help with. I do as she says and lift the lid with the blue rag that was hanging off of the oven handle. The blistering heat slapped me in the face and I was not bothered. I scooped my first scoop that included a huge piece of boiled potatoes, spaghetti noodle, a tender piece of beef and two sliced carrot. I repeated the process about five more times until my Pokémon bowl was overflowing. The dining table seemed to be miles away, although it is only around the corner. I completed my mission and reached the table ready to stuff my face just to realize I forgot to get a spoon. My mother passes by and asked me if I were eating with my fingers today with a laugh. Too hungry to respond, I just laughed back. It dawn on me the second she reached the kitchen that I had not placed the lid back on the pot. I ran behind her as if my life depended on it, she is always telling me not to leave her food opened to any bugs, I don’t know its my mother. Before she could say anything I apologized grabbed a spoon and disappeared back in front of my bowl. Waited 365 days for this very moment, my first spoon. It felt as if I moving in slow motion but at the same time I was already half way through my first bowl. I always leave my meat for last because it absorbs most of the squash juice, it taste way better in my opinion. I thought about getting a second bowl but I know that I would enjoy it more if I saved it for later. But I ignore my conscience and get another bowl anyways. What if I don’t make it until later, I think to myself. I have to live in the moment, soup wins. I finish my second bowl and it felt like my first. For the rest of the day my family and I watch television and chitchat together, mostly Family Feud because my dad hogs the remote.
It takes about three days for all the soup to be gone. The best part is that we don’t get tired of it. Maybe if there were a fourth day we would but I don’t think it could last that long in the presence of my family and I.
