Recipe: Sazón
FOOD, RECIPE, VEGAN, SEASONING, HOMECOOK, HOMEMADE, LATIN FOOD, LATIN, LATINO, LATINA, AUTHENTIC, FAMILY RECIPE, SAZON Marie Myman FOOD, RECIPE, VEGAN, SEASONING, HOMECOOK, HOMEMADE, LATIN FOOD, LATIN, LATINO, LATINA, AUTHENTIC, FAMILY RECIPE, SAZON Marie Myman

Recipe: Sazón

Sazón is a traditional Latinx dry spice mix known for its red color. This seasoning can we used or added to nearly everything: beans, rice, stews, meat, and vegetables. Sazón is typically used to give “Spanish” rice its common yellow/orange/red color from the use of achiote. This Homemade recipe is easy, naturally vegan (because duh), and the best goya replacement

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Poem: A Study in Priorities
LATIN, LATINO, LATINA, AUTHENTIC, WRITING, WRITER, MEMOIR, PUERTO RICO, PUERTO RICAN, BORICUA, JEWISH, CULTURE, BIRACIAL, MUTT, MIXED RACE, RELIGION, NYC, NEW YORK, COVID 19, LOCKDOWN, QUARANTINE Marie Myman LATIN, LATINO, LATINA, AUTHENTIC, WRITING, WRITER, MEMOIR, PUERTO RICO, PUERTO RICAN, BORICUA, JEWISH, CULTURE, BIRACIAL, MUTT, MIXED RACE, RELIGION, NYC, NEW YORK, COVID 19, LOCKDOWN, QUARANTINE Marie Myman

Poem: A Study in Priorities

Are you too / certain that / underneath the gelatinous muck is / a mass?

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Mixed-Race Mutt: Growing up a Jewish Puerto Rican in New York City
LATIN, LATINO, LATINA, AUTHENTIC, WRITING, WRITER, ESSAY, MEMOIR, PUERTO RICO, PUERTO RICAN, BORICUA, JEWISH, CULTURE, BIRACIAL, MUTT, MIXED RACE, RELIGION, NYC, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES Marie Myman LATIN, LATINO, LATINA, AUTHENTIC, WRITING, WRITER, ESSAY, MEMOIR, PUERTO RICO, PUERTO RICAN, BORICUA, JEWISH, CULTURE, BIRACIAL, MUTT, MIXED RACE, RELIGION, NYC, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES Marie Myman

Mixed-Race Mutt: Growing up a Jewish Puerto Rican in New York City

Puffing out his chest with pride my older cousin meticulously ties the corners of the flag around his neck. “Boricua Man!” he shouts to the crammed subway passengers, his breath cloaked with the bitter smell of Bacardi. “Yo soy Boricua Man!” he bellows triumphantly, throwing his arms over his head and pretending to fly around the laughing commuters. My cousin isn’t the only one who is drunk on the early eight o’clock train for the parade. Old Puerto Rican men with leathered skin clutch open beers in their hands as they pin fold-up chairs in between their large stomachs and arms.

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