Hay Pique?

Written for “Las Caras Lindas” zine, XicxZine Collective.

I came straight from the island, from the mountains of San Lorenzo specifically. When I say that to my Latinx friends, it makes no difference from where in the island I came from, but then when I remember how the cousin of my ex once introduced me to her partner saying “She’s from the campito, her Spanish is...different!”, oh yeah, hell yeah I gangsta-remember it makes a difference. It makes a difference because they both came from the island as well; from San Juan specifically. You see?!

Besides my PRican cousins in Chicago who don’t believe I am Boricua because  of the way I dress (whatever that means), many of my compatriotas here in Chicago they know I’m from “la isla”, which literally means “from the island”, but in Puerto Rico (in Spanish) it means you come from the mountains. And that, I own it with such love and pride. In the end, we are all Boricuas, and it comes in really handy to be raised in the mountains when you live in the Diaspora.  

Specifically, when you are having dinner with a bunch of beautiful Latinx people and your  Mexican friend says; “your people can’t stand spicy food”, and the homie next to me says “No, not our thing!” . That’s when the Boricua-Jíbara-Goddess from the Mountains of San Lorenzo in me, rises tall and says with a bicha tone: “‘ej’pera ej’pera papa, we have pique! Good pique indeed!” (wait, wait..) And of course nobody knows what pique is and they all look at me weird. 

This is how I started my mission of proving the world, how do you do pique del bueno, like my Grandma taught me, of course.

I went to the supermarket and got 1 small pineapple, fresh oregano and garlic. Then, e’cuse me sir, where are the caballero peppers ?” And I explain to the supermarket guy how do they look. “You mean Thai peppers?”, he said. ”No way Thai, mera that I came here because this is no white people’s supermarket sabes” , I told him. Which he admits it’s not, and actually proves it’s “ethnic” because they have recao.  

I gave him the look, but of course he got me with recao so I bought 5 bags, might have time later to do some sofrito to freeze for the whole year, you never know. While I keep searching for the peppers, I find it as good timing to leave pineapple skin fermenting in water for at least 24 hours. The crystal bottle is ready with the oregano (with the stick oye, don’t forget the stick), salt, peppercorns; but still no caballero peppers. I call my mom to see if she can send me the peppers, she says (of course) “Ay no nena, not the same without caballeros”

36 hours passed, pineapple water smells deliciously fermented, and what do I do? I give up and buy habanero (at least they sound Caribbean) and jalapeños. There they go, into the bottle I strain the water, seal and leave it all mixing up for 5-8 days in front of my window before setting it on the fridge. I could have fun and add some pineapple or mango slices, but after not finding my caballeros, I’d try to keep it simple. 

My mother’s voice chases me through my sleep all week: “Ay nena….” Struggle is real with these ma’is I’m telling you. After a week, I bring a small bottle to any party I go as a present. People love it, people hear about pique and try it, my homies go “Ohhhh...you meant this?” (eye roll). My Mexican friends still think is “suavesito” haha, but they get it. It’s pique, and it’s from my people!

In my head I try to answer my mom, “This is the Boricua Diaspora Pique ma’i, like my life here in the states, never like home but you make the best with what you got, and hey, it still counts”  

And of course, till this day I have no idea how to translate the word Pique to anyone.

2 Pique bottles made for my best Boricua friend that lives in the suburbs.