Eating pernil in Ohio

This afternoon, my husband and I joined a group of Latin@s, other people of color, and Anglos from my small college on the hill for a pernilón, a typical Puerto Rican (or Latin American)-style party when a whole pig is roasted over an open fire.

This was a makeshift pit, as you can see (the photos are courtesy of the hosts), and the enormous pig, flattened and rubbed with delicious seasonings, including habanero peppers, was splayed under the foil paper and placed over the burning coals before dawn.

By 4 p.m. it was crispy and succulent and ready and there seemed to be more pernil served and eaten at that party than you can get in any one weekend at Guavate, Cayey, on my beautiful, pork-loving island.

I don't think I've ever eaten that much pernil in my life. And while I was vaguely afraid that it might not settle well after so many years without it, my body seemed to recognize it as a friendly and patriotic food, and all was well.

The gathering brought together the entire Puerto Rican coven at my small college on the hill (all of us women, all of us rather short, all of us dark-haired and fiery-tempered) at the house in the woods (a true cabaña) of the Puerto Rican colleague who is married to a charming Costa Rican, or tico, as they call themselves.

She and her tico husband were both generous and welcoming hosts, and my husband and I had a wonderful time, which is unusual for us, since we're rather unsociable (well, I tend to be a lot more social than my husband but even my socializing meter has a low filling point).

The pig roast was supposed to start at 2 p.m., but good to our culture, me and my other Puerto Rican colleague-friend decided we'd leave around 3 p.m., after her daughter had taken a nap and I'd returned from a quick shopping trip into the city with another friend. We arrived around 3:30 p.m., my husband and I thinking that we'd stay for about an hour, but it was close to 7 p.m. when we got back home. That's how good a time we had.

Not only was the pernil scrumptious, but for my husband, who's a vegetarian, there were platones full of arroz con gandules made by our host without any meat so that everyone could enjoy. And it was the most delicious arroz con gandules I've ever had, and I don't even like that typical Puerto Rican dish!

Filled to our bellies' and to our hearts' content, we left the party before nightfall while it was still going strong with many people gathered in groups, eating up a storm and chatting about anything and everything. Children ran and yelled and laughed all over the open grounds of the little house in the woods. It was a charming time and it reminded me so much of the family gatherings we had back when I was a child, not in cold Ohio, of course, but in warm, tropical Puerto Rico.

Still, even in the wilds of Ohio, leave it to a tiny group of Puerto Ricans and Latin Americans to put together the pig roast to end all pig roasts in this part of the world. We carry the ability to produce calor, of both the cooking and the human kind, in our bloods.

I thank God for that. Like my favorite song says: yo sería borincana aunque naciera en la luna. I wouldn't have it any other way.