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Maria throws her head back and laughs.
“¡Ay, bendito! That’s in our Boricua blood! You tell them you’re not hungry, and suddenly there’s a plate in front of you anyway.”
That sounds… lovely.
I’m glad that even though I never experienced that… Artemis did.
Fuck.
I’m so fucking glad she has a loving home.
Maria begins assembling our order, talking to us as she works. She recommends a little of everything, insisting that we need to try the dishes while they’re hot. Artemis helps me choose, explaining which foods she’s eaten growing up and which ones she’s only ever heard her mother talk about. We end up ordering enough food to feed a baseball team and also she pays for the food of the people waiting to order, too.
And to think she thinks of herself as cold.
I’ve never met a warmer soul.
A few minutes later, María hands us two plates piled high with food, along with countless sauces in small containers. Then we find a small standing table beside the truck, sheltered from the worst of the snowfall, and settle in.
Artemis looks down at her plate like she hasn’t eaten in weeks.
“Okay,” I say, picking up my fork. “You have to explain everything to me.”
She looks up. “Everything?”
“Everything.”
I want to know all of her.
All her sides.
She smiles.
“This is mofongo. It’s made with fried green plantains mashed with garlic and other seasonings. You usually eat it with meat or broth, depending on how it’s prepared. I like to add a little bit of Mayo-Keychup when I eat at home.”
“Mayo-Ketchup?” I frown.
The fuck is that?
As if she read my mind, she picks up a tiny sauce container and lifts it up for me to see the pinkish mixture.”
“It’s mayonnaise and ketchup. It’s good. Taste it.”
She drops a little of the Mayo-Ketchup on my plate.
I take a bite and stop.
Artemis watches me expectantly.
“Well?”
I chew slowly, trying to figure out how something so simple can taste so damn good.
“Holy shit.”
“It’s good, right?”
“It’s fucking delicious.”
