The book I'll be discussing today is not currently on any best sellers lists. It's probably not filling up your social media feeds recently, and it might not even be a book you're familiar with at first mention. However, when originally published in 1989, it caught Mexico by storm and would go on take residence on bestseller lists for the next several years. The book would be also translated into languages worldwide and adapted to a full-length feature film that would end up nominated for a Golden Globe in the Best Foreign Film category.
Like Water for Chocolate, which takes its name from the popular Mexican saying ("Como agua para chocolate") that means that one has reached their boiling point, is a novel by Laura Esquivel that reads like something between a Latin-American soap opera and a fairy tale. It has elements of the fantastic yet remains grounded in realism and poignancy. This short but vivid novel captures the magic of residing in Mexico and blurs the line between fantasy and reality. What's more, because this book was published nearly thirty years ago, this write-up will serve more as an analysis and a place for me to share my thoughts about it as opposed to a proper book review.
The novel is made up of twelve chapters, each named after a month of the year along with the name of a traditional Mexican recipe, that tell the life of Josefita de la Garza, the youngest of three daughters who live with their mother on a ranch in northern Mexico, near the U.S. border. Tita's mother is domineering, cruel and has condemned her daughter to a servile existence, stating that it is a family tradition for the youngest daughter to remain unmarried and care for her mother until her dying day. It is because of this tradition that, when Tita's beloved Pedro comes to ask for her hand in marriage, Mama Elena denies him the right to marry her but offers him another one of her daughters.
It is the dynamic of the controlling mother and unsympathetic sister who marries Tita's true love that reminds me of the tale of Cinderella. Tita's days are repetitive and laborious: rise before the sun, fix mother her breakfast, wash up, feed the farm animals, make mother lunch, wash up, do laundry, make the beds, fix dinner for mother, and go to bed early to rise the next morning. Does this not remind us of the fairy tale princess many of us have grown up knowing? Of course, there are some differences. Mama Elena and Rosaura are not evil step-anythings; they are her true relations.
Another difference is that, instead of a fairy godmother, Tita finds comfort in the family cook, Nacha, who teaches her that the kitchen where she spends the days preparing food for her tyrannical mother should not be seen as a cage but a space where she can assert her independence. And Tita does so: not only does she reclaim the kitchen as a place of creativity and invention but finds that it is where she holds the most power. The meals she creates do more than just provide sustenance for her family; they also have powerful effects on those that enjoy them. Take the quail in rose sauce that Tita makes after Pedro gives her roses that Mama Elena order her to throw away. Tita, devastated that she has to discard this small token of affection, creates a delicious sauce with the petals that imbibed with the passion and lust that she was feeling when Pedro gave her the flowers. When her sister Gertrudis eats the dish, she is overcome with a heat coming from within her. Not even a cold shower can cool her. Instead, Gertrudis runs away and ends up making love to an army general while astride a horse.
In the decades that the book covers, we see Tita and her family experience one tragedy after the next. There are many deaths, horrible accidents, war crimes, mental breakdowns, and yet Tita continues to provide sustenance, to feed those in her home. She uses each recipe to communicate that which she feels while cooking and cares for her loved ones more intensely everyday.
Like Water for Chocolate is unlike any book you'll find. Esquivel takes the idea of domesticity and makes literal magic of it. I enjoyed the book for numerous reasons: my favorite dishes ever are featured proudly (mole poblano and chiles en nogada), the setting is one with which I am very familiar, the cover art features a woman that looks like me to name a few of those reasons. Because of my own personal enjoyment of this book, I'd recommend it to anyone. In fact, if you can read Spanish, I'd even suggest reading the original text. I did and I found it incredibly satisfying. I also plan to try one of the recipes some day in the future and rest assured I'll let you know if they taste as well as they read.
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