Hot Dogs in the Summer

Hot Dogs in the Summer

Families all around the world have their own traditions. Some families go to church every Sunday morning. Others go on yearly vacations to catch a break from their busy schedules. There are those who have extravagant celebrations to commemorate special occasions, such as birthdays and anniversaries. And some, like the Cardenas family, whose presence has been well established in the small South American town of Chococo, eat hot dogs every Friday night during the months of June and July, when the heat is at its peak, and the meat vendors are forced to reduce the prices of their products as a result of the meat’s quicker decay during the warm summer weather. These nights are particularly splendid for the Cardenas family, because not only do they get a night off the usual dinner of rice, lentils, fried plantains, and eggs, but they get to enjoy the fruit of their collective effort when they eat these magical hot dogs. Every member of the six-person family is responsible for purchasing an ingredient and having it in the kitchen by noon on Fridays.

The Buns

Julio, the eldest out of the four children in the Cardenas family, works at the bakery during the day, and goes to the town’s university at night to study medicine. The bakery is at a prime location, adjacent to the town’s cathedral, one block away from all of the office buildings in town, and directly across from the only high school in Chococo. Julio stays busy all day baking almojabanas, pan de yuca, buñuelos, and a multitude of pastries. The boy started working at the bakery when he was a lanky 15-year-old with three hairs on his chin and pimples all over his face. Now, after four years carrying bags of flour, serving tables, and molding all different types of pastries, he’s as strong as an ox. His muscles bulge out from the small uniform shirt he was given since he started working at the place. He’s also grown a full beard, and the surface of his skin is as smooth and radiant as the hot, golden buns he bakes every morning. Girls all over town come to the bakery just to admire his beauty at work. Julio flirts with them for the good tips, but there’s only one woman that makes his heart skip a beat: Xiomara.

Xiomara has been crowned the prettiest woman in Chococo five years in a row. She is all caramel; her skin, eyes, and hair all share the exact light brown tone. Her body and her face define the word symmetry. If Julio can fill a bakery with admirers, Xiomara can fill an entire coliseum with suitors. Despite serving her a café con leche and one almojabana free of charge every single morning, he’d never had the guts to talk to her. Seeing her enjoy something he made with his bare hands was his daily dose of serotonin, and it pushed him to keep working hard at work and school. One day he’d become a doctor and make enough money to buy her love with jewels and fancy dinner dates, but in the meantime, he’d have to spend all his earnings supporting his family and his career. Especially during the summer, when he has to work extra hard to bring fresh hot dog buns home each Friday night.

Xiomara came to the bakery earlier than usual on a hot Thursday morning. It was so early, she found the baker boy shirtless, sweeping the floors. Her café con leche and almojabana nowhere to be seen. She had never caught him unprepared. She was not used to not getting what she wanted whenever she wanted it.

“Ms. Xiomara, I apologize for my tardiness. You caught me here earlier than I expected. I’ll have your café con leche and your almojabana ready in 10 minutes,” said Julio, rushing into the kitchen, looking for his shirt.

“It’s ok, Julio. I’ll wait. And you can leave it off,” said Xiomara staring at his chiseled torso.

“Oh- uh – you know my name?” said Julio, a fire burning on his cheeks.

“Of course, I do, silly. I come here every single morning. Besides, it’s embroidered in your apron.”

“Right, of course. I just didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Oh, because I’m a beautiful woman with multiple accolades for my physique you don’t expect me to read?”

“No Ms., that’s not what I meant at all. I just didn’t think a girl like you would ever pay attention to a simple peasant like me.”

“Well, maybe if you take me out on a candle-lit dinner with lobster and wine down at the restaurant by the river I’ll give you all the attention you crave.”

“Ms., I’d love to, but I truly can’t afford such luxuries.”

Xiomara placed a finger on his lips. His muscles tightened.

“I’ll be here Friday night at the end of your shift in an elegant black dress, tailored just for you. See you then.”

Xiomara walked out of the bakery without letting him utter one more word. She left him there, speechless, with a warm almojabana and an abandoned café con leche.

I suppose I shall buy seven hot dog buns this week, said Julio to himself.

The Sauce and Quail Eggs

Magdalena is the mayor’s favorite servant. Maybe because she is the maid’s daughter. The maid that has kept his large estate spotless for 20 years now. The maid that began working there during his first year as Chococo’s mayor, when she was only 15 years old. The maid that earned a soft spot in his heart from the very first moment his wife introduced her into the house. Or maybe because Magdalena is his spitting image. Unlike the rest of her family, her skin is pale like his. Her eyes an emerald green, like his. Her hair obsidian black, just like his.

When her mother brought her to the estate when she was merely five years old, asking him to give the sweet child a job, he could not refuse. But he couldn’t give this lovely child simply any job. This child deserved better; he knew it in his heart. He decided to name her Chococo’s official mascot’s care giver, but Chococo didn’t have an official mascot, so he took her to his parents’ farm and allowed her to pick any domestic animal to become the town’s emblematic animal.

At the farm, Magdalena chose a bald, three-legged goat as the town’s official mascot. She looked at its eyes and felt an immediate connection to the animal. She felt sympathy for the poor kid, isolated from the other goats and rejected by its own mother.

“That’s an odd choice, don’t you think, sweetheart?” asked the mayor.

“No, Mr. Mayor. This goat is perfect! It reminds me of my father.”

And that is how Chococo’s official mascot became an ugly, bald, limbless goat. The mayor even grew fond of it. People saw him playing around in the garden with Magdalena and the limping animal daily. Magdalena nurtured the goat with all her might. The animal became a symbolic piece of the town’s history. It got to enjoy all of the town’s parades and most important events for the next 10 years of its life, before its unfortunate death, trampled by the mayor’s daughter’s horse in what she called a “tragic accident,” with a hidden grin.

Magdalena never understood how the mayor being such a kind and gentle man ended up with such a snobby daughter. She didn’t care much for his wife either, who gave her dirty looks with every breath she took and assigned her to work in the kitchen as a servant immediately after the goat’s death. Her new responsibilities comprised buying fresh groceries, organizing the food neatly in the pantry, cutting up all fruits into perfect bite sized squares, and washing dishes. This position came with its own perks, however. Especially during the summers, when she was in charge of obtaining the sauces for her family’s hot dog nights.

“Mr. Mayor?” Magdalena would ask her kind employer every Thursday morning before going on her daily trip to the market.

“Yes, Maggie,” he’d say.

“Do you think I could have and extra hundred pesos today? My family is having a hot dog night tomorrow for supper, and I’m in charge of acquiring the sauces,” she’d say softly.

“What sauces does your family put on their hot dogs?”

“Tartar sauce, tomato sauce, and pineapple syrup.”

“That sounds delicious, Maggie. Here you go,” he said, handing her $200 pesos.

“I only need a hundred pesos, Mr. Mayor.”

“Use the rest to buy a carton of quail eggs. That’s how my mom used to top her hot dogs. It’s delicious. You’ll thank me later,” he said.

“I’ll thank you now,” said Magdalena, running to him and giving him a tight embrace, not understanding what she’d done to get such a kind boss.

The Chicken

Juan and Jose were known in town as “El Huracan y El Terremoto,” the hurricane and the earthquake. Ever since they could crawl, they’d been terrorizing the inhabitants of Chococo. Not even their mother’s immaculate reputation was enough to convince a single soul in town to give the twins a job. For this reason, Juan and Jose were forced to attend the local school, rather than find employment. But during the summer, they had time to engage in other activities.

Their inability to get a job did not deter their ability to earn money. On the contrary, Juan and Jose often managed to bring home more cash than everyone else. How? The family never asked. As long as they pitched in their part for the family’s basic necessities and kept out of jail, everyone remained quiet.

“What will we do to get the chicken for this week’s hot dogs?” asked Jose, as they sat by the fountain in Chococo’s central park.

“I think I have an idea,” said Juan, focusing his gaze on a couple sharing a cup of shaved ice on a bench nearby.

“Let me have your shirt,” said Juan.

“What for?”

“You’ll see.”

Juan wrapped Jose’s shirt around his head in the shape of a turban. He grabbed some dirt from the ground, spit in his palms, and thickened his eyebrows with the black goo. He approached the couple cautiously, and with a cryptic smile uttered, “Would this lovely damsel like a palm reading? I can predict your success in all romantic endeavors.”

Before the girl could answer, her protective boyfriend responded, “Can’t you see she’s already succeeded romantically? You idiot.”

“Perhaps there is someone better for you out there, love,” said Juan with a wink.

“You stupid gypsy, I’m going to kick your ass!” said the boyfriend.

“See this behavior? If he’s so confident about his love for you, he wouldn’t be opposed to an innocent palm reading,” said Juan.

“Hmm, that is a good point,” said the girl pensively.

“No, honey, I’m absolutely positive we’re meant to be together forever! He’s just a con artist, trying to waste our hard-earned money!”

Juan began to ramble about the stars, and love, and the universe, and the constellations that dictate the future to distract the couple while Jose pickpocketed the man’s wallet from the back, taking $500 pesos and mouthing the information on the man’s ID to Juan. Then he carefully placed the wallet back in his pocket and fled with the cash.

“Just leave us alone, lunatic,” exclaimed the man.

“Huh, this is classic Gemini behavior. Specifically, June Geminis. I’m sensing you were born in early June,” said Juan.

“Honey! You were born on June 5th!” said a now convinced girlfriend.

“Anyone could’ve guessed that” said the boyfriend.

Juan closed his eyes and rubbed his chin with his fingertips.

“I’m also sensing your name starts with an F… is it Flavio, Fabian? … NO! Fernando! Your name is Fernando,” said Juan.

“Baby, that is your name. We have to le him read my palm. Please?” said the girlfriend pouting.

“Fine,” said Fernando visibly irritated, but secretly intrigued.

“It’ll be a mere $50 pesos,” said Juan.

The young gentleman proceeded to pull out his wallet from his pocket but couldn’t find a single cent in it. He began to look all around him for a stack of cash that he assumed must’ve fallen out of his pocket.

“I’m going to read your future for free, sweetheart,” said Juan, “He is not the one for you,” and gave her a smirk.

“I’m going to kick your ass!” exclaimed Fernando.

“Look, a shooting star,” yelled Juan, pointing at the sky.

The couple turned their heads and Juan fled the scene. He caught up with Jose at the market, where he’d already purchased a live chicken and a pack of beers with the stolen money.

“Cheers, brother,” said Jose.

“Cheers.”

The Chips and the Soda

Mr. Cardenas was once a hopeful 18-year-old aspiring to have a large family and a farm of his own to sustain them. From the age of 12 he’d been looking for the perfect woman to marry, and he found her six years later in Martha, a fourteen-year-old that moved to Chococo to find work and a better life. It was love at first sight. They courted each other for three weeks and got married at the cathedral one month after their first date. Within another month, they were pregnant with their first child together.

Mr. Cardenas was a hustler. He had five different jobs, and he was willing to do anything to save money for his dream farm, but his involvement in politics, something he never truly understood, led to his downfall. He kept hearing rumors all over town about a group of communist bandits coming to Chococo to take over their properties and their jobs. Rumors that had been spilled throughout the town for decades now but intensified the more he got closer to saving enough money to purchase the land for his dream farm.

When a neighbor told him one day that he was going to go to the jungle, where these communists had their camps set, and fight them to defend Chococo, he didn’t hesitate to join. He left a pregnant Martha with half of his savings, to fend for their baby and herself. He took the rest of the money to buy ammunition and kill the bandits once and for all. He was a self-proclaimed hero of the people, and he went to fight a war that no one was fighting.

In the jungle, no one knew who the enemy was. Every man there with a weapon assumed that every other man there with a weapon was the threat. For months, him and his partner hid in the jungle, shooting any other man they saw within the vicinity. They ended up marking their territory and defending that piece of land as if it were Chococo. Dozens of proud nationalists with the same objective as theirs came throughout the year to defeat the two Chococoan soldiers, thinking that they were the communist bandits. Mr. Cardenas and his partner succeeded in their operation for a very long time, until the weather got worse, and food became scarce.

Mr. Cardenas found himself fighting for a banana with a rabid monkey one evening while his partner was collecting water. The monkey had gotten into their hidden stash of food and had destroyed many of their supplies. He did not plan to let this creature cause further destruction, and he wrestled the monkey until he took the banana out of its hand. The monkey, in retaliation, bit his upper thigh, and left him bleeding in the rain. When his partner found him on the ground, the wound already looked infected, and he decided it was time to return to Chococo. They’d already defended the town long enough; it was time for someone else to do it. He picked Mr. Cardenas up and carried him all the way back to town. At the hospital, the doctors amputated his leg before the infection spread and killed him.

By the time he got reunited with Martha, she had already purchased a very small and quaint property to raise their first child, Julio, and the second child they were now expecting, Magdalena. The young girl he married looked so much older. He accredited her worn countenance to the solitude she must’ve felt in his absence, but he didn’t blame himself for it. He had done the right thing. He left to protect her and the children.

Martha had gotten a job at the mayor’s house. He told her she should quit immediately, that he’d provide for her and the kids, but he’d failed to realize how reluctant people were to give employment to a disabled man. When none of his old employers hired him back, he began protesting outside Chococo’s courthouse daily, causing a tremendous ruckus. In order to appease him, the Chococo senate enacted a law that would provide any disabled individual incapable of finding work $300 pesos a week, which was enough money to keep Mr. Cardenas quiet.

With this money, he was able to cover some of the household’s monthly expenses. He dedicated the rest of his days to cleaning the house, cooking for the family, yelling at cyclists and vendors that made too much noise, and writing unsuccessfully about his time in the war. But the summers were special, because they gave him a reason to get out of the house.

Very early in the morning, he’d go to the corner store with his home-made alcohol, buy a bag of peanuts for $10 pesos so he’d be allowed to sit in the tables like the other guests, and spend all day drinking. The drunker he got, the more obnoxious he became. When the ladies came in to purchase a snack, he’d shock them with his vulgar obscenities.

“Mami, how much are you selling those buns for, huh?”

“Damn, I don’t recall ordering such firm breasts. Chicken breasts!”

“Mami, need some butter for that arepa?”

The store clerk rushed towards Mr. Cardenas after he’d driven a bunch of customers out of the store, and pleaded to him, “Sir, please leave the premises already, you’ve been her for hours.”

“Can’t you see that I have not finished eating my peanuts, woman,” exclaimed Mr. Cardenas. “You can’t kick me out. I’m a paid costumer. It’s my legal right to be here.”

“You’ve been eating those peanuts for five hours, and you’ve been terrorizing our clients the entire time. If you don’t leave, I’m going to kick you out by force.”

Mr. Cardenas got the exact reaction he wanted.

“Did everyone hear that? The management at this establishment is threatening to kick a crippled man out of his chair and into the streets! This is barbaric and discriminatory behavior. This establishment is an abhorrence to our decent, civilized society!”

A couple of drunks cheered for Mr. Cardenas, and clients entering the store left before making their purchase.

“Sir, please calm down. How can I get you to leave without causing any more trouble?”

“Well, perhaps if I can have a family-sized bag of chips, and a 3-liter bottle of Cola, I might be able to overlook this terrible offence and get the hell out of here.”

The clerk ran to the back of the store and grabbed the items Mr. Cardenas asked for.

“Here you go, sir. Now, will you please leave?”

“Thank you, sweetheart. See you next week!” said Mr. Cardenas.

The Chorizo

Martha Cardenas always did her shopping on Fridays, the last day of the work week, when she could find all of the leftover produce of the week and barter for a cheaper price. She had learned early on how to get her money’s worth. She avoided the stands with women vendors; it was always easier to smile and bat her eyelashes to get a discount with the men. She headed directly towards the meat section. Rows of raw meats hung on metal hooks like shower curtains in the crowded market. She headed to Mr. Franco’s meat stand and shooed the stray dog looking for scraps before the kind vendor gave the meat she intended to buy at a reduced price to the starving animal.

“Evening Mr. Franco,” said Martha.

“Hi Ms. Cardenas, how’s the family?” asked Mr. Franco.

“They’re ecstatic to eat your delicious meat for dinner. Still got those summer prices?”

“Just for you,” said Mr. Franco.

“You’re the best. Thank you, sir,” she said, handing him the money.

Working for the mayor for almost twenty years had been a blessing and a curse. When her husband left her to fight the communists, money began draining quickly. Most people wouldn’t hire a pregnant woman, worried that she’d get hurt on the job, but the mayor’s wife was kind and took her in, thinking that her husband wouldn’t be unfaithful with a woman about to give birth. She was wrong. Martha had to deal with the mayor’s inappropriate behavior for two decades now. The more she worked there, the sicker she felt about her boss’s expectations. But she figured this would happen in any other job; at least there she got to work in a nice, air-conditioned home. And she had Fridays to be thankful for. All her family together, enjoying a delicious meal cooked with nothing but love.

At home, all the ingredients were ready for her. She grabbed the caged chicken and hung it by its feet on a string latched to the ceiling. She chopped its head off and let it jitter until it became fully immobile. She plucked all of its feathers, washed it, seasoned it, and boiled it until it was perfectly cooked. Then, she roasted the sausages and toasted the buns using firewood. Once the meat was ready, she prepared the hot dogs, topping them with shredded chicken, tartar, tomato sauce, pineapple jelly, and quail eggs. She served them on plates with chips and a glass of Cola. Her entire family, and a lovely caramel girl, waited eagerly to eat and share the highlights of their week, united more than ever by the summer hot dog.