The Epic Fail of Arturo Zamora

Later the same day, following regular mass, Father Samuel holds a memorial service for Abuela. Cari has invited only a few people outside of the Zamora family, but Father Samuel alludes to Abuela’s great popularity, noting that “[s]he was a beacon in this community and this parish” (174). A photograph of Abuela sits on the alter, as does a flower bouquet. Observing a single white rose in the center of the colorful arrangement, Arturo thinks of “Guantanamera” and Martí’s line of verse, “Cultivo una rosa blanca […] I cultivate a white rose” (175). Arturo remembers how much Abuela enjoyed gardening, and cooking, and telling him stories.

Before the service ends, Cari announces they will serve a dinner to honor Abuela next Sunday at La Cocina. It will be open to the entire community, because Abuela cared about everyone. As they walk home, Cari surprises Arturo by saying he will help her cook the memorial dinner.

After Arturo’s mother goes inside, Carmen approaches and mentions having lost her book of poetry. Because he’s embarrassed to admit he found it in the mailroom and never returned it, Arturo suggests she borrow Abuela’s old copy. They find Martí’s book of verses on Abuela’s coffee table, and, while Carmen reads, Arturo looks through Abuela’s old photographs. When he shows Carmen an intriguing black-and-white photo of a man at La Cocina, they agree he resembles José Martí. They speculate that if Martí once visited the restaurant’s building, that might give it historical value and protect it from Wilfrido’s wrecking ball.

Arturo’s parents are on the sofa when he returns home. Cari’s eyes are puffy, and Robert, Arturo’s father, is stroking her head. Both have told Arturo the story of how they met. Their accounts vary somewhat, but they agree that their relationship began inauspiciously at Lola’s Café, on Main Street, when Robert spilled coffee on Cari’s white chef’s coat.

Arturo’s mother wakes him early the next morning and presents him with a chef’s coat that has his initials on it. Abuela had it made for him. Following a brief stop at the restaurant, where Cari hangs a black blow—un crespón—on the door, they drive to several local farms to get fresh produce and meats for Sunday’s dinner. Every vendor is saddened to hear of Abuela’s passing, and most give them everything they need for free, as a contribution to the dinner. Abuela’s long-time meat supplier says, “Doña Veronica was the first restaurant who picked our humble farm over the larger chains” (188). Arturo is surprised how beloved Abuela was by those she did business with.

The week passes quickly. When they are not preparing for Sunday, the Zamoras spend time together enjoying all the activities that Abuela herself loved. Worries about Wilfrido fall by the wayside, although he tries to secure an invitation to Sunday’s dinner several times. Cari steadfastly refuses, explaining coolly, “You don’t live in this neighborhood. Plus, I know you only want to come as a publicity stunt” (190).

Arturo learns the photograph he found isn’t old enough to be an image of Martí. He shows it to his mother, anyway, and she laughs, remembering when the picture was taken. She was a child at the time, and Abuelo had dressed up as Martí to read poems during dinner at La Cocina.

Sunday morning arrives, and Arturo goes with his mother to the empty restaurant. They will spend the day cooking “all of Abuela’s best dishes” (191). As Cari lays out kitchen knives and various ingredients on the prep station, she quickly runs through Arturo’s numerous duties, which include julienning some vegetables, cubing others, peeling the boniato, and retrieving assorted items from the refrigerated walk-in. His head spinning, Arturo stammers, “I…what is Juliette again?” (192). Cari demonstrates how to julienne by expertly slicing a carrot lengthwise while Arturo watches, marveling, “If my mom wasn’t a chef, she could have been a samurai” (192).

Before Abuela got sick and relinquished her role as the restaurant’s chef, she and Arturo cooked together in her kitchen on Saturday nights. They prepared soups and sauces for the family’s Sunday dinner, although at a more leisurely pace than what Cari is accustomed to. While, Arturo remembers Abuela’s apartment filled with “the heavenly smells of saffron, yerba Buena, cilantro, and perejil” (193), his eyes start burning. Cari quickly realizes the onion is irritating his eyes, and he splashes his face with cold water. Wiping away his tears, he sees his mother’s eyes are red and watery, too, but “[i]t wasn’t the onion” (194). She is crying. Arturo gives her a towel, and she presses it to her face, sighing, “It’s been so hard. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to worry about this” (194).

The food is ready, and there is enough “to feed twenty square blocks” (197). Arturo and his mother have prepared pescado a la sal (fish packed in salt) with a tomato sauce; guinea hens and oxtail; masitas de puerco (pork balls); plantain chips; yucca fries; and numerous salads. As Arturo’s cousins take trays of food to the dining room and patio, cars begin filling the empty lot. People stream through the open patio doors carrying flowers, balloons, and gifts. An enormous photograph of Abuela welcomes everyone.

Carmen tells Arturo she has a surprise and leads him to a blooming floribunda bush sitting outside. With help from the Green Teens, she hauled it to the restaurant from the garden shop several blocks away. A white rose on the bush captures Arturo’s attention as Abuela’s favorite music starts playing inside. Everyone enjoys the food, the music, and the dancing so much, “it almost felt like the old days—like Wilfrido Pipo had never stepped foot in our neighborhood” (198-99).

When the evening ends, everybody pitches in to help clean up. Vanessa expresses how impressed she is by Arturo’s “commitment” (199) and suggests he join her activist group next year. She also says she has organized a sit-in at the restaurant the following morning, before the council vote. As Vanessa departs, Mop’s parents congratulate Arturo on his excellent cooking and give him a letter Mop has sent from camp. Carmen and her father also praise Arturo as “an incredible chef” (201), triggering what he experiences as a “salsa party of nerves, embarrassment, and […] excitement” (201). He pulls Carmen’s poetry book from his pocket and returns it, claiming he found it in a mailbox.

Later that night, Arturo reads Bren’s letter. After rhapsodizing about a girl he’s met at camp who knits and loves nature, Bren toys with the idea of styling his hair into a bun and wearing sandals. He ends his letter contemplating how strange it is that “now we’re thinking about girls all the time” (203), when, just recently, all they cared about was basketball.