[dropcap size=big]O[/dropcap]n Saturday mornings, Salvadoran cumbias blared throughout my family’s tiny apartment in Mid-City as my father shaved his beard in the restroom and my mother cooked a typical Salvadoran breakfast: platanos fritos, frijoles negros, crema, y aguacate, con tortillas hechas a mano. It’s a memory that I still taste to this day. It’s home, or it was.
My parents divorced when I was a child. My sister and I became busy with school and work, and my mother had to work longer hours as a single parent. We still live at home, but sitting down for a traditional Salvadoran meal is not as present anymore because of our conflicting schedules — which is sort of a good thing, but also unfortunate.
In 2015, I was diagnosed with prediabetes. I had to eat less Salvadoran plantain empanadas, which are usually filled with frijoles negros or a vanilla custard; pupusas revueltas stuffed with pork and cheese that gushes out of a pupusa and crisps when fried too long; and casamiento, a popular dish for its “marriage” of black beans and rice.
At 24 years old, I represent the many Latinos and Hispanics who are at greater risk of becoming diabetic, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. In 2018, the American Diabetes Association found that Hispanics are diagnosed with diabetes at 12.1 percent; black Americans, 12.7 percent; American Indians and Alaskan Natives, 15.1 percent; Asian Americans, 8 percent; and white Americans the lowest at 7.4 percent.
This news has complicated my relationship with Salvadoran food and home. Along the way, our tastes have changed. My mother hardly cooked, and when she would offer to make my sister and me a meal, we would always reply with: “No, we’re on a diet,” or “It’s not healthy,” while secretly craving the taste of sweet fried plantains for breakfast.