Written by: Hunter Gonzales

Outside South Philly Barbacoa. Image Source: wikimedia.org

Grandma’s Cooking

When reflecting on my childhood, my fondest memories always involve my grandmother and the meals we shared together. I was a very picky eater as a kid, but my grandmother always found a way to get me to eat with her delicious Puerto Rican recipes. She would make all kinds of dishes like yellow rice and beans, fried plantains, empanadas, and tacos. My connection to my Hispanic culture is directly linked to these meals.

Me and my grandmother after making rice, beans, and pork chops together. (2018)

Moving to Philly

After moving to Philadelphia for college, I began to miss the time I spent with my grandmother and her cooking. I lost a sense of my culture in college, and I turned to cooking as a way to fill that missing part of my life. Although I had minimal cooking experience at this point, I saw my apartment’s heavily used electric stove as a way to make all the Hispanic foods I loved as a kid. The first week after moving in, I immediately went to the “GOYA” section at the local grocery store and found all the ingredients I remembered seeing my grandmother use so many times before. I frequently called my grandmother and asked her for all kinds of Hispanic recipes, old and new, that I could try and make for myself. Through cooking, I felt more at home and connected to my heritage. Despite this happy feeling, something big was still missing. I wanted to find a physical space that could give me a greater sense of community and familiarity.

Puerto Rican Empanadas. Image Source: flickr.com

Discovering South Philly Barbacoa

One day, a friend and I decided to make dinner together and after a long debate between Italian or Spanish food, we settled on tacos, rice, and beans. As we ate, my friend told me about an amazing experience he had at a Mexican restaurant in Philadelphia called South Philly Barbacoa. He described every mouth-watering detail about the food he tried, specifically the lamb tacos. The way he talked about the tacos at the restaurant made our dinner seem like flavorless mush. He then started talking about the restaurant’s owner, Christina Martinez, and her journey from illegally immigrating from Mexico to finding great success in her restaurant in Philadelphia. My interest was greatly piqued by this Mexican restaurant. Could this be the culturally rich physical space I was looking for? From that moment, I knew I had to pay a visit to South Philly Barbacoa.

Inside South Philly Barbacoa Kitchen. Image Source: flickr.com

Visiting South Philly Barbacoa

I decided to go to South Philly Barbacoa early one Sunday morning. Before I went inside, the outdoor decor caught my eye. There were many beautiful murals and mosaic art pieces along the walls that were reminiscent of the art at the “Philadelphia Magic Gardens.” Similar patterns also filled the interior along with decorative pots and pans, painted dishes, tapestries, and photographs of the owner, Christina Martinez, and her family. I could hear jubilant mariachi and reggaeton music playing from the speakers. Everyone in the kitchen was speaking Spanish and hard at work, but the employees still found time to sing along with the music and laugh with each other. There were many customers all standing around waiting for their meal or talking among themselves. Many of the customers were Hispanic and a few even looked like my own family members. One man in particular wearing a cowboy hat looked exactly like one of my uncles.

Before I ordered my meal, an employee told me they were already sold out of everything except lamb. I decided to order two lamb tacos, unintentionally copying my friend’s order. The total was about $12, cash only. My meal was ready only a few minutes later. A very friendly, and sweaty, man came from the kitchen and presented me with two very delectable looking lamb tacos. I went to the dining room to find a seat and I was delightfully overwhelmed by how comfortable and familiar the restaurant felt. Everything from the bright red plastic stools and the table cloths with floral and fruit patterns felt like they were taken straight from my grandmother’s back yard. While I was at South Philly Barbacoa, I felt like I was a guest at Martinez’s house and I was joining her family for dinner. Every bite I took of the lamb tacos took me back to my childhood. They were delicious. For a moment, I was no longer in a restaurant in Philadelphia. I was back home with my grandmother.