(Short Story) A taste of "un Desayuno Dominicano"

As the Alarm clock screamed for attention, I wiped the sleep from my eye and noticed it was already past lunchtime. The rumble from my stomach set off a 5.4 on the rictor scale throughout my body. I proceeded to the kitchen yearning for a nice, traditional Dominican Breakfast. "Ahhh, I miss being a teenager in NY." I thought. If I was at home in Mami's house at this time, the air would have smelled of Fried eggs, Mangu, Cebollas, Queso Frito, y salami.

I salivated at the thought of eating some Tostones con catchu, Hamon, Cebollas Y jugo de mango. I rushed to the kitchen cabinents but to my surprise, I had none of the above in the kitchen shelves or fridge. "Now what?" I thought. "Jump on a plane and go back to NY just for a plate of Mangu?" I joked. Suddenly the 100 watt lightbulb illuminated above my head as I realized that I now had Dominican paisanos living in Los Angeles!!

Without a moment to spare I ran back to my bedroom and fumbled through my phone books in a desperate search for any Dominicans I knew who lived in L.A.!! I stopped at Fulana's number and hit dial as I cleared my throat and prepared to engage in mindless conversation until I thought of a clever way to ask if I could come over for lunch! "Heredia!!" She shouted."Garcia!!" I responded."Y Que Vaina e'?" she asked. I got right to the point, "Tengo ganas de comer me un desayuno Dominicano y.." She quickly interrupted, "Heredia, arranca pa' mi casa que estoy cocinando." The force of the smile that emerged ripped the dry skin at the sides of my mouth."Ta' bien. Te veo en una hora!" I responded as I got ready for the long journey from Santa Clarita to Culver City, in the rain, in the middle of traffic, on a three day weekend, all for the sake of a Dominican Breakfast.














I jumped in my car and drove what seemed like hours in traffic. All the while I thought, I'm going to eat some great food and can't wait. An hour and a half later I arrived at Fulana's front door. The neighbors who watched me jet across the street, slip and almost get hit by a car must have thought I was a junkie as I peered through the gates in anxiety. Her house was quiet. There were no signs of Hamon sizzling on the stove. The air smelled of Gardenia flowers, not Tostones. The aftershock in my belly reminded me that I was a minute away from passing out. "Heredia, ven con migo que tengo que hacer un mandao' primero, y despues te cocino tu amuerzo." Damn it I thought. All this time I thought the food was ready. I almost got hit by a car crossing the street to sit at a dining table with empty plates. "Oh ta' bien. Claro que yo te acompanio, no hay problema." I responded.
We jumped into her car and I started swallowing my spit and searching for any remains of last nights dinner throughout the crevices of my teeth. "Primero tengo que Charlar con el dueno del donut shop porque estoy tratando de vender le unos pasteles." she said. "Y despues tenemos que ir downtown porque me tengo que comprar unas cortinas, una mesa, Pampers, papel de toilet..blah, blah, blah, bling, bling, bling blah." she went on to explain. Although I had never been to downtown L.A. in the 3.5 years that I've been in Los Angeles, I couldn't shake the hunger and just stopped talking all together. I had become numb. My stomach wasn't convinced that I had plans on feeding him any time soon and started spitting up the acidic food from last nights dinner just so that he could remind himself of what it was like to have food flowing through him. He finally began nibbling away at the lining in my stomach walls.

15 minutes later we had arrived at the Fabric district in downtown Los Angeles, at this point I was dilirious. I was so hungry, that the people walking around me started to look like hamburgers and frenchfries. With all the walking we did, I felt like we were back in NY. As we walked, we bumped our way through some of the residents of Skid row, my nose was fighting off an attack of the cigarette smell in the air, while my ears were repelling the invasion of noise the permeated around me. All in all it was an eventful first time in the fabric district I must admit. I witnessed a horrible car accident, took some pictures, bought a jacket and flirted with some asian women. "Ok Heredia. Ya no' vamo." She said. I almost hit the roof in excitement. The long wait will finally be over. My stomach who had given up on me suddenly stopped spitting up acidic foods. Fulana and I got into her car and drove back to her house.

As she began frying up the oil in the pan my eyes filled with tears. The moment of truth had arrrived. I was finally going to have my taste of "un Desayuno Dominicano." Who cared if it was at 4:23pm! The Tostones were done and she took out the Victorina Catchup. The air began to smell like that Dominican morning in Mami's house. Suddenly I felt 15 again. I was nibbling away at the tostones, jumping around in Fulana's kitchen in anticipation as she bagan frying the hamon y cebollas. I was so giddy that I took out my camera and started taking pictures of the food I was about to eat. Finally we sat at the table. She said that before we eat she had a gift for me.

A ticket to the Dominican Social Clubs Dominican Independence day celebration. She promised it to be an incredible evening full of serious music, food and crowds of Dominican families. I was in heaven. Suddenly I heard angels in the heavens singing bachata in my head. This couldn't be possible. An entire dominican community in Los Angeles? I was lost in my thoughts until her plate of food snapped me back into the present time. "Buen aprovecho" she said. "Gracias." I responded. She smiled at me. I smiled back. We stared smiling at each other in silence. I thought to myself, "I wonder what I would have to go through to get her to make dinner for me?

THE END..