Arroz Ala Valenciana Novels & Stories

(RORY'S POV) The dining room looked like a banquet feast that was made for a King. Nana had made a mini feast, the kind she only pulled out when she wanted to impress someone or when her heart was especially full. Tonight, it was both. The table groaned under the weight of it all—a golden roasted pork shoulder glazed with honey and garlic, its crackling skin glistening under the dining room lights. Beside it, a massive bowl of arroz con pollo steamed fragrantly, the rice stained a warm yellow from saffron and annatto, studded with tender chicken and sweet peas. A platter of tostones sat golden and crispy, waiting to be dipped into the garlic mojo sauce that Nana had made from scratch that mo

I nodded. The nausea had finally disappeared, giving way to a gnawing hunger. I couldn't eat before surgery so my stomach had nothing in it but acid. Hailey brought me some Spanish rice she made with shredded chicken. She said it's called arroz con pollo, which just translates to rice with chicken. I love when she makes this for me. It's so comforting and very delicious. "Thank you, Hailey!" I smiled widely at her. "Anytime, Liv."

I take one bite and I almost moan. “This is so good,” I say, letting the taste fill my mouth. “What is it called?” Julian sits back, looking pleased with himself. “Arroz con pollo. I wanted to make something from home.” “It is perfect,” I say between bites. “But not as perfect as hearing you say it.” Javier brightens up, grinning as he drinks from his glass. “Did I tell you Cruz won a cooking contest one time?” My eyes get big. I look at Julian. “Is that true?”

"Doesn't that make sense? I want to know what my beautiful wife did all day." The server came over right away and took our order. I looked at Russell. "Give me one Valencia salad, please," Russell said. "That's up to him in another order." "Okay, ma'am," the server looked at me and said. "Wow, your seafood paella is incredible," I said. "Give that to me." "Are you planning on eating rice?" Russell asked, surprised. "It's almost night. You shouldn't be eating rice in the evening."

And to think, all this time she thought she was eating authentic Azorean food! She was told to make arroz doce instead of the aletria that she usually made. And there would also be deep fried calamari as well as squid sautéed in olive oil and wine, grilled linguica, little neck clams, beer mussels, caldo verde sopa, and a braised beef served with potatoes and carrots called carne guizada. She liked being in the kitchen with Mama Torres, who seemed to know everything about cooking just by sight. She knew when Kaye needed to add more salt to the beef and that Francine's wine wouldn't do for the molho vilao.

Not the performed life of the woman Elena was supposed to be. Spanish food. Albondigas in saffron broth to start. Arroz con pollo as the main, the real version, the one with the proper sofrito base and the kind of patience in the preparation that couldn't be faked. A flan for dessert that was structurally perfect and smelled like her grandmother's kitchen in Queens on Sunday afternoons. Elena stood at the dining room entrance before her parents arrived and looked at the table and felt something behind her sternum that she didn't examine.