Haitian Beatz

As I was sitting over at my uncles house on Christmas eve surrounded by what appeared to be the last supper, I could not help but smile. As my eyes digested the scene, I scanned the table to see *Macaroni au gratin*, *du riz-ak djon djon*, rice and red beans, white rice, black bean sauce, *salad russe*, potato salad,

fried chicken, chicken in sauce, *lanbi*, *tassot,* *griot*, roast turkey, and everything else that was part of the Haitian culinary repertoire, I could not help wonder when and how him and my aunt had the time to make all that food. But then my concern quickly alleviated as I thought to myself, they do have 3 grown teenage girls, ages 14, 16 and 19. So as I feasted on the fabulous meal, I looked over at my youngest cousin, and asked her which of the dishes she made. Imagine my surprise when she said none. Then I asked the 16 year old. Same negative response. As I looked over at the 19 year old, almost fearing her answer, yet still hopeful, she quickly answered," well, I just started learning to cook, I made the potato
salad".

I could not believe my ears. A Haitian household, with 3 growing young ladies, yet none of them knew how to cook. How could this be? How did my aunt let this happen? How could she fail them so? Though I did not verbalize any of these questions, my look was so accusatory that she turned away.  I felt bad. I felt bad because why would I place such emphasis on these kids to knowing how to cook? I almost looked at her as if she was a bad mother. This is America for Christ sake! people can buy food at anytime of day or
night, its not that serious to know how to cook. Who was I to judge anyways? I mean, I know how to cook, but I probably cook at home probably about once every 3 months.  *But* I know how to cook. My brother *knows* how to cook. It was just something we learned growing up.