With Transitions Come New Traditions

The other day, the kid asked me to make him onion pie. Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows that my son – AKA “the kid” – loves (and hoards) things like bacon, grilled teriyaki chicken wings and pot-stickers. He actually has mature taste in food for his young age. But onion pie?

Yeah, onion pie. The request made my heart fill with joy because it’s a Vides tradition.

Let me explain.

My dad had 9 brothers and sisters and each of them had a zillion kids - our family tree on that side of the family looks more like a Central American rainforest. Growing up in El Salvador, every Sunday evening the entire family ended up at my grandparents’ home for a big dinner. In typical Latino fashion, there was a nice spread that included one particularly delectable dish: onion pie.

I know it sounds odd. But imagine onions sautéed in real butter till they’re sweet; add heavy cream and other goodies and bake in a fresh crust (made from scratch, of course). It was my grandmother’s recipe and she wouldn’t share it with anyone. So if you wanted onion pie? You had to go to Mama Hilda’s house. That is – until our nanny observed her making said pie and memorized the recipe…and dutifully passed it along to my mother. And it’s thanks to the nanny’s indiscretion that the onion pie tradition continues in our family to this day, even after Mama Hilda’s passing.

Fast forward to 1999 and I’m an adult living in San Francisco. My friends Drew and Laura every year hosted a Thanksgiving feast for all of their friends – a week before Thanksgiving. It was a fantastic event – and we were asked to bring a special dish. I, of course, brought onion pie. Small problem: onion pie is kind of odd for a bunch of San Franciscans. While most were afraid of it, a few really liked it so I continued my tradition – and added something new to theirs - by bringing onion pie to their Thanksgiving gathering each year.

Then I got married.

Over the years and throughout my marriage, new traditions were added. I’d never had green bean casserole until my former mother-in-law served it but I gladly added it to holiday meals, just as she added the onion pie to her holiday meals each year. And my deviled eggs are apparently pretty good so those became a staple at Easter and 4^th of July. I accepted and loved these new traditions, just as his family accepted some of mine.

Then, last year, life changed again: Divorce.

Over the holidays (I know that was sooo last year but bear with me, people) I was faced with the truth that I needed to create new traditions for my son and for me. I had an opportunity to bring some of the Vides traditions– some specific to our family – and others simply Hispanic in nature – front and center. I made it happen.

In the form of Nochebuena.

Throughout his life, my son has always viewed Christmas as something that is celebrated on Christmas day. You wake up and open the gifts Santa left, then eat a huge meal whose menu varied depending on where the holiday was celebrated. But only in the years we celebrated with the Vides family did my son experience Nochebuena (Christmas Eve), too. In my family Nochebuena is una parranda with the Salvadoran pupusas, tamales, frijoles con crema and more. Plus a lot of music and dancing. But since my son is so young, Nochebuena isn’t something he remembered.

This last Christmas was the first one my son and I celebrated together – without his dad. In fact, he was actually set to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with his dad, so I needed to celebrate with him early. So in the weeks before Christmas, I painted a picture for my son of what was to come… of the special Christmas he and I would have together. And while our “Nochebuena” actually occurred on December 22^nd and our Christmas on the 23^rd, I cooked up a storm and did everything I could to ensure that those days actually felt like the real Christmas and that the new tradition – ours – was created. That tradition, naturally, featured onion pie alongside pupusas, rice, chicken and tamales, as well as a gift exchange with some friends.

He went to bed smiling and with a heart, mind and tummy full of my family’s traditions.

I must have done something right, because the next morning – Dec. 23^rd – he woke up with a smile.

“Merry Christmas, Mama.”

That day we celebrated Christmas Day with pancakes and bacon, the traditional Christmas tree and – another new tradition – a play at the Pantages Theater. (Which, by the way, was his first – and he loved it.)

It was a Christmas chock full of new traditions.

As I look ahead to Mother’s Day later this week, I think back to the last one - also my first alone with my son. We went to Disneyland and he ordered room service for me because he said little boys should take care of their mamas on Mother’s Day. This year he’s pledged to plan something special for us to do together. And to cook me breakfast (well, help me anyway). I can’t help but believe that this Mother’s Day we’ll create more new traditions for him and me – which I hope will last our lifetime.

Maybe onion pie will be on the Mother’s Day menu, too. I’m down with that, or whatever else we dream up together.

Traditions have to start somewhere right?