On Eating Soyrizo

Oh Trader Joe’s, I owe
you my deepest Pocho
gratitude for your soy
chorizo. “The authenticity
comes from the spices,”
you say, and I believe you.
Who needs meat when
fake meat tastes this good?
After my Caucasian wife
lovingly sautés butter, salt,
onions, and baby bell peppers
together in a skillet,
she adds your protein
delight, and declares
after just three minutes:
Dinner is served.
She cannot warm the corn
tortillas fast enough.
“You may not be a meat
eater, but that doesn’t
mean you can’t enjoy
the spiciness of authentic
chorizo sausage.” I think
of a bad joke, a play
on words: Soy chorizo
can mean “I am chorizo”
if you speak the language
of the colonizer. You don’t
even have to be fluent
to taste what seems real.

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About jeffersonbeavers

Jefferson Beavers is a multimedia storyteller based in Fresno, Calif. He works at Fresno State and enjoys volunteering in the community.
This entry was posted in Poems, Words. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to On Eating Soyrizo

  1. Steve W Parra says:

    “Soy Chorizo” … It sounds like you’re bragging. ; > !

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