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My Grandmother's Dulce de Nuez
I don’t think I’ll ever know why I love Dulce de Nuez so much. It is essentially just ground up pecans and Marie biscuits, held together by condensed milk. I don’t like any Dulce de Nuez, though; my Grandma’s one is the only one that I enjoy. My sweet, sweet Grandmother has always loved to cook and bake. She has been able to master the cuisines of several different countries and has never backed down from any task in the kitchen… even those my Grandfather challenged her to that were meant to be a joke. Some extravagant sounding foods have become inside jokes within my family, such as apple soup. Every single meal she prepares results in a scrumptious experience and she loves to do it. A widely-known television network even approached her to offer her the creation of her own cooking program. She declined because she said she only liked to cook for her family and friends. Even in the toughest times, preparing some food for her family would bring a joyous smile to her face. The world would never get to know her marvelous creations; they would forever be our secret little treasure. Her desserts, though, are what stand out the most to me. Whenever I think of my Grandmother, I do not think of all of the dishes of other courses she can prepare. My mind immediately goes to the very last course: dessert. None will ever match her mint chocolate tarte, her homemade ice cream cookies, the fruit cake she makes during the holidays, the raisin bread she made in bear shapes for my younger self, her handmade buñuelos, her niño envuelto cake, or any of her sugary confections. But, oh, what I love the most is her Dulce de Nuez. It is my all-time favorite dessert of hers, and she knows it. She prepares it once a year, on my birthday. It makes me both happy and sad that I only get to taste it once a year. Sad because I love it so much that I wish I could taste it more often and happy because, by tasting it only on my birthday, it is so much more special. I’m a little ashamed to admit that it doesn’t please me that I have to share it with my family. I can’t help it; it is simply luscious. She taught me how to prepare it, for I too am a baking aficionado. No matter how many times I attempted to make it, it was never quite right. How could I be messing up a three-ingredient dessert? I tried changing the proportions, the source of the ingredients, and the utensils. So simple, yet so complicated. Then I realized that hers is infinitely better than mine because she makes it with the love only a grandmother can have.
