The Last Meal
Contributed by
Matt Baldwin on 30/05/11
My abuelita died while making me her chiles relleños. I was five years old, and watched it happen, sitting at the kitchen table waiting for my meal. I was too young to know it was a stroke, only that she crumpled like tissue paper, upending the cookware and collapsing atop the knife in her hand. Decades later and the smell of spice still makes me think of funeral homes.
