Most of the time I ate pastel de pollo growing up, it was not homemade, at least not in my abuela’s home.

I can’t remember a year in my life where my Grandma Lucille laid out the smörgåsbord and the korv was missing.

As a young girl, I dreamed of my father coming home and saying, “Hey kids, I brought fried chicken!”

My mom was born in Cuba but fled with her family in 1959. They settled in Puerto Rico, where she spent much of her early life. The Santa Marias brought many foods and customs with them, but they also embraced those in their new home, and the traditions surrounding the asalto navideño are the ones that burn brightest in her memory.