Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 37

(12/12) “Last week we received a visit from one of our favorite...

(12/12) “Last week we received a visit from one of our favorite customers. Her name was Janet. And she walked right in the front door, which surprised me. Because it wasn’t something she’d normally do. Janet usually ate her meals alone in the back, away from the other customers. But on this day she seemed to be excited about something. She walked straight up to the register, and leaned over the counter. ‘I’m in remission!’ she shouted. And immediately I started to cry. I thought back to the day that I’d first met Janet. It was just a few weeks after we’d opened the restaurant. And we were having one of those days when it felt like nothing was going to work. We hadn’t had a customer all day. I was working all alone in the kitchen, and I was feeling depressed. But suddenly I heard the cash register ring and Sebastian passed me an order for golden milk, without the coconut oil. It was an unusual order, so I went out to find the customer. Just to learn about her needs, and maybe share a little of my research. I found her sitting all alone in the back. She seemed a little timid. Like she was frightened of something. And right as I introduced myself, she began to cry. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘But I just found out that I have cancer.’ My heart broke for her. Because I knew exactly how she was feeling. I’d been there: that deep hole, that darkness, where nothing makes sense. And I wanted so much to comfort her. My English was very bad at that time, but I tried. I sat down next to her, and I tried to share the story of my family. I told her about all the things we’d been through: the sickness, the heart attack, the bankruptcy. I told her about all the times when it seemed like we had no hope. And we felt like giving up. But always a path appeared. ‘God was always sending us signs,’ I told her. ‘But in the moment we were too stressed to see them.’ And at that point I also began to cry. And I really hate to cry, but I began to cry. Because I was telling her all the words that I needed to hear. It’s like I was talking to a mirror. ‘You are going to heal,’ I said. ‘But you have to believe.’”   

(11/12) “We’ve built a little family here over the past year. A...

(11/12) “We’ve built a little family here over the past year. A family of people who believe in food. Many of our customers have strict diets because of allergies or illness. But they walk in this door and say: ‘Oh my God, I can eat everything here. I’ve found my place.’ But still, it’s been slow. Sebastian tallies our receipts at the end of the day. And I always beg him not to tell me the number, but I can tell how we did by the look on his face. On the days when it’s only $200 or $300, he’ll look so disappointed. But on a good day, when we’ve done a little better, he’ll get the biggest smile. And the dreamer will awaken. He’ll begin to talk about franchises, or selling our food in grocery stores. But those are Sebastian’s dreams, they aren’t mine. My dream is to be a mother again. It’s been nothing but work. We’ve been here sixteen months, and we’ve only had three family days. My girls are suffering too.  It’s hard to be in a new country. It’s hard to make friends. They need their mother. So maybe one day we can hire employees, or even a manager. I’ll be able to pick up the girls from school, and just be with them for a while. I worry most about the youngest, Hebe. She’s my baby. And she’s the one who misses me the most. She’s running around my feet in the kitchen. And I’m with her, I’m trying to be there, but I’m not there. She’s begun to show some bad behaviors. My other daughters complain, but I beg them: ‘Please, just talk to her. Hug her. Give her what she needs.’ But what she needs is her mother. I know that. Hebe’s birthday was a few months ago, and all she wanted was a picnic. It’s the only thing she asked for. But last weekend was the first time we were able to do it. We went to a local park, just a few minutes from our house. We spread out a blanket. Sebastian had some whiskey. I had some wine. The girls had sparkling water in champagne glasses. We made a toast, to our family. We celebrated how far we’d come. Then we shared some food that I made: ham and cheese sandwiches on almond bread, and some chocolate cupcakes. It was nothing special. But it was special. Because I made it just for my girls, the way I used to. It was something I cooked as a mother.”

(10/12) “Life in America was so much harder than we’d imagined....

(10/12) “Life in America was so much harder than we’d imagined. And on the night our investor backed out, I was ready to quit. All of our money was gone. We’d just been told the business wasn’t going to work, and it felt like we had no path. But Sebastian has hot blood. He doesn’t like to be told that he can’t do something. ‘Maybe that man is right,’ he said. ‘Maybe we will die. But we will die with that door open.’ There was no money to hire help. The girls did some of the painting, but everything else fell on me and Sebastian. All the renovation. All the cleaning. Finally we were able to open our doors, but then the pandemic came. And very few customers were able to find us. All the time it felt like we were going to sink. Sebastian and I were constantly fighting: ‘This is all your fault!’ I’d tell him. ‘Why did you need a showroom?’ Then he’d yell back: ‘My position is worse than yours! Last year I had my own office. Now I mop the floors.’ I knew it was hard for him. For his entire life he’d been the boss, but not anymore. Sometimes he’ll joke with the customers: ‘This may be “Cristy’s Kitchen,” but it’s Sebastian’s business.’ And he’s right about that. He does everything except for the food: all the systems, all the ordering. When we close our doors at six o’clock, he turns his hat backwards, and says: ‘Now I become the dishwasher.’ He laughs when he says it. But I know that inside he’s very sad. Because he’s fallen so far. But beneath all the dreams, and all the ambition, his mission in life is to be a good man. It’s ‘humilidad’ above all. He has this ability to say: ‘No matter the job, I will do my best. Because it’s the job God has given me.’ There’s a moment at the end of each day that I love, when Sebastian collects our little signs from the road. He has no idea that I watch him from the window. I watch him pull the signs out of the ground, one by one. And when he finishes he always looks at the sky. And takes a deep breath. That’s the moment I love. Because I know what it means when he breathes. It means he’s trying to remember himself. And calm down. And be grateful. And have faith that everything connects. Because that’s who he is. That’s Sebastian.”

(9/12) “Our lives were brought down to nothing. The banks took...

(9/12) “Our lives were brought down to nothing. The banks took the house. They took the cars, the furniture, and even our beds. We moved into a tiny unit that belonged to Sebastian’s mother, and laid our mattresses on the floor. But in the middle of it all, we’d never felt more at peace. Our path finally seemed clear. We borrowed money from friends to pay the lease of the restaurant, and Sebastian went ahead to America to arrange the paperwork. He was gone for two months. And during this time I invited my mother to come stay with me and the girls. Our relationship hadn’t improved much since I was a teenager. But a funny thing happens when you begin to heal, the world begins to heal around you. Those were the most amazing two months. There was nothing to do but be together. We didn’t have a car. Or a television. We got an entire box of champagne, and every night after the girls went to sleep, we’d share a glass in the living room. We never brought up the past. Neither of us wanted explanations, or apologies, there was no time for that. Both of us knew this would be our last chance to heal. We spent so much time in the kitchen. We cooked every meal for the girls: breakfast, lunch, dinner. I tried to soak in all of her wisdom, and I taught her a few things as well. We prepared all her traditional recipes in a new, healthy way. My mother loves butter. So we spent weeks working on a healthy vegan butter. We tried so many experiments. But we were never quite satisfied, because both of us are perfectionists. The day before Sebastian came home, we made one last attempt, and both of us agreed: we’d created a very good butter. It’s like all my longing from childhood was given to me in that single moment. And when it came time to leave for America, we were completely healed. Sebastian and I packed all our possessions into the car: fourteen bags of clothes, five girls, and a dog. We kissed my mother goodbye and began driving to the airport. All of us were so excited. It felt like we were beginning a new chapter, and leaving all our troubles behind. It felt like destiny. But after a few miles, we had to turn back around, because Sebastian had forgotten his wallet.”

(8/12) “I came back to Peru full of confidence. I even started...

(8/12) “I came back to Peru full of confidence. I even started to research locations for a café. But my optimism didn’t last long; because a few weeks later, the collection agencies began coming to our home. We had to remove the doorbell from the door. And whenever there was a knock, I would tell the girls to hide. It was shameful. And Sebastian felt the full weight of the responsibility. His face was always wrinkled. His shoulders were always tense. When he stepped off the rowing machine one morning, and complained of a pain in his chest—I knew what it was. ‘It’s only gas,’ he said. But I knew. I called the hospital and told them to prep the emergency room. By the time the ambulance arrived he was in so much pain. They brought him straight to the operating room. But before the surgery began, the administrator called me to the desk. ‘Your insurance won’t cover this,’ she told me. I almost started crying, and I hate to cry. In front of people, never. But really, how much more could we possibly take? I thought the purpose of life was to enjoy. Enjoy your friends, enjoy your family. But for us it was nothing but problems: fix this one, fix that one. And all the time Sebastian is telling me to have faith. But it’s too much, really. What could be the reason for so much suffering? While I was standing at the desk, Sebastian’s friends began to arrive at the hospital. I told them everything: about the factory, the banks, the insurance. It was difficult to be that weak, but I had no pride left. And after I was finished, they gathered together and took a collection for the hospital bills. They paid for the entire surgery. During recovery Sebastian was in bed for three months. There was so much time to think. ‘I have to let the business go,’ he told me. ‘It’s not worth my life. It’s not worth you or the girls. But the bankruptcy will be very difficult, and you should know that we’ll lose everything.’ I told him that I understood. And I was ready to start again. A few days later we were lying together in his bed, when the phone began to ring. It was Sebastian’s brother, from America. ‘You know that restaurant that you loved?’ he asked. ‘It just became available.’”

(7/12) “After that day a dream began to grow inside of me. Maybe...

(7/12) “After that day a dream began to grow inside of me. Maybe I could be a chef. Maybe I could write my own cookbook, and share my recipes with the world. But it was bittersweet. Because at the same time, Sebastian’s dream was dying. Ever since I’d known him, he’d been trying to build a furniture company. It started with just a little shop. But during our marriage his vision kept growing. Sebastian could do every kind of job: acoustics, paneling, counters. He started getting orders from big accounts, and over the years his company grew to fifty employees. But it was always about so much more than money to him. It was his ministry. He saw the company as a way to lift his workers out of poverty. And his ultimate goal had always been to build an entire showroom. I warned him against it. It would cost so much money. And we were already dealing with Camila’s health problems. But Sebastian was full of faith. Whenever he has a dream, he thinks it is his destiny. He poured all our savings into the showroom. It was so luxurious. He imported all the furniture from Argentina. But as soon as construction was finished, the economy took a downturn. And nobody was buying luxury furniture anymore. Even then Sebastian would not let the dream die. We went into so much debt. He kept pouring money into the showroom. But even when the banks began to threaten us, he was full of faith. ‘God is always sending us signs,’ he’d say. ‘We’re just too stressed to see them right now.’ At the end of the year we took a trip to visit Sebastian’s brother in America. He lived in a town called Roswell, Georgia. And while we were there we decided to visit some gluten-free restaurants. There was one café I especially loved. Not because of the food; I ordered some muffins, and they weren’t as good as mine. But the building itself was magical. It didn’t feel like a restaurant. It reminded me of Little House On The Prairie, and I loved every detail: the wood floors, the furniture, the lamps. So many ideas were running through my head. I took pictures of everything, and I said to Sebastian: ‘One day I will open a café. And when I do, it will look just like this.’”

(6/12) “I could always tell when Sebastian’s furniture company...

(6/12) “I could always tell when Sebastian’s furniture company was struggling. Because he talks to himself very loudly. Even in the other room I can hear him: ‘Please God, how do I fix this? What am I going to do?’ And around the time Camila became a teenager, he was talking to himself so much. He was very stressed about the business, but it was more than that, because Camila had begun to develop new symptoms. This time there were rashes all over her skin, and the bloodwork showed a very rare autoimmune disease. She spent so much time in the hospital. Test after test. Medication after medication, but the problem only grew worse. Camila was such a little warrior. She smiled through every procedure, but I didn’t want this life for her. So I begged our pediatrician: ‘Please, enough with the medicine. Let me try to heal her with food.’ By this time we’d become very good friends, so I think he trusted me. Or maybe he’d just given up, because he gave me his blessing to stop the medication. I went back to the kitchen. Camila’s diet was so clean already, but I went even deeper. I tried vegetarian. I tried vegan. Then one day I found an article about a gluten free diet, so I tried that. I created all sorts of new recipes: cashew pizzas, sweet potato pancakes, coconut granola. Every single day I took pictures of Camila’s skin. And after only two months, it was completely clear! Our pediatrician couldn’t believe the results. He even asked if he could share my discoveries with other patients. By then I had a huge collection of recipes, but still, I never imagined myself as a chef. For me cooking was part of my job as a mom. But then something happened that made me start dreaming. One afternoon my cousin brought her boyfriend over to our house. He was the owner of the largest bakery in Peru. And he had Parkinson’s disease, so his diet was very restrictive. I served him some of Camila’s special sandwich bread, made of quinoa, amaranth, and rice. He chewed it very slowly. It was hard for me to tell his reaction. But then he took another bite. And another. ‘I’ve eaten at gluten-free restaurants all over the world,’ he said. ‘And this is the best bread I’ve ever tasted.’”

(5/12) “Camila had started kindergarten by this time. I was...

(5/12) “Camila had started kindergarten by this time. I was trying to pack her lunchbox with healthy choices, but the grocery aisles were filled with crap: potato chips, sugar, processed stuff. I’d been reading about the dangers of the modern diet. I knew her body couldn’t handle those things, so I decided to cook everything myself. But only with real ingredients: no boxes or bags, no sugar, no dairy. And everything was organic. Sebas thought I was a crazy woman. He kept complaining that our grocery bills were too expensive. But something began to happen. The girls were using less pills, and fewer inhalers. There were no more 2 AM trips to the hospital. And when we sat down with the bills at the end of the month, it was clear as day. Yes, our grocery bills were going up. But the medical bills were going down even faster. I waved the papers at Sebastian. ‘Look at this!’ I told him. ‘I’m not crazy!’ But after that I did become a little crazy. Because I started to love the kitchen. I researched all the latest nutrition. Then I’d lie awake at night imagining healthy meals for my girls: black bean brownies, zucchini smoothies, mango and coconut cookies. And my dishes were more than just healthy, they were delicious. Sometimes Camila would share her lunch with friends, and I began to get calls from other moms. ‘How do you do it?’’ they’d ask. ‘My daughter hates zucchini. But she loves your zucchini muffins!’ I shared some of my recipes online, and there was so much interest that I began teaching classes at our home. Each morning a group of moms would gather in my kitchen, we’d cook recipes together, then afterwards we’d eat a big breakfast. Those were such happy years. I’d discovered a new passion. The girls were getting healthier. We added a third daughter to our family. Then a fourth. I loved being a mom so much. There was nothing I enjoyed more than spending time with my girls: being with them, helping them grow. That’s all I needed in life. But shortly after our fifth and final daughter was born, Sebastian pulled me aside one day. ‘Maybe you could turn your food into a business,’ he said. ‘Because it’s always nice to have a back-up.’”

(4/12) “For Sebastian it was ‘family first,’ always. It was his...

(4/12) “For Sebastian it was ‘family first,’ always. It was his highest priority. So even before I decided to marry him, I knew he’d be a good father. I was less sure if I’d be a good mother. But when we became pregnant with our first daughter Camila, it’s like something inside of me changed. I knew that I’d discovered my purpose. I’d messed up so many things in life, but I’d be a great mom. I’d do whatever was necessary. In the beginning I was so protective of Camila. Too protective, really. It’s like there was always this voice in my head, telling me that something bad would happen. Sebastian was the calm one. He kept reminding me that we needed to have faith. And he was such a good dad. At birthday parties the other fathers would be off with drinks in their hands. But Sebastian was always down on his hands and knees, playing with Camila. He loved that little girl so much. She was such a happy baby. And we were happy too. We had money problems of course, but Sebastian was starting his own furniture company. He just needed a little bit of time. We weren’t that much different from other young families. Our troubles didn’t begin until Camila turned three. One morning she woke up with a small cough, and a bit of a runny nose. Initially we thought it was just allergies. But her breathing problems grew worse over time. There were nights we’d rush to the hospital at 2 AM, just to hook her up to a nebulizer. All of the doctors prescribed the same thing: inhalers and antihistamines. But nothing seemed to work. I lived in constant fear. I couldn’t sleep through the night. And when our second daughter Gala began to show signs of the same condition, I became desperate for other options. But the message from the doctors was always the same: ‘Your only hope is medicine. And if you don’t use it, you’re a bad mom.’ But the medicine wasn’t working, and it was so expensive. So I had to try something else. Cooking had always been my mother’s passion, not mine. I hadn’t created a recipe since childhood. For a long time my diet had been coffee, and crackers, and cigarettes. But now I had no choice. I had to figure out how to love food, for the sake of my daughter.”

(3/12) “At the discotheque we struck up a conversation with two...

(3/12) “At the discotheque we struck up a conversation with two guys. They claimed to be brothers, but I thought they were playing a prank. Because one of them had black hair and the other had red. The black haired one was so shy that he wouldn’t say a word. But the red head would not shut up. He told us his name was Sebastian. And that he was a rower on the Peruvian team. For some reason he was fascinated by my earrings. He kept calling them beautiful. He was certainly confident, I’ll give him that. He danced like an eagle trying to lift a large rabbit off the ground. I wasn’t attracted to him at all, not then. But I guess part of me was impressed by his persistence, because at the end of the night I gave him my number. On our next date we went to see the Titanic movie. He’d just gotten shoulder surgery, so his arm was in a sling. And I was very careful to sit on the side with the sling. But he kept trying to kiss me anyway. I wouldn’t let it happen. Not that easily. But even on those first dates, I could tell he was a good man. He was very religious. He was always talking about ethics, and ‘doing the right thing.’ But still I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be with him. Then one night he invited me to an awards ceremony at his rowing club. We got dressed up. There was an orchestra playing. And Sebastian was surrounded by his teammates. From the way they looked at him, and listened to him, I could tell: this is a man who is loved. At the end of the night we decided to take a walk along the beach. He tried to kiss me one more time, but I still wasn’t letting him. Then we arrived at a bridge of rocks jutting out into the sea. Sebastian began to step on the rocks, but he lost his balance and fell into a hole. I started laughing so hard. He couldn’t get out because he was still wearing a sling, but he wouldn’t let me help him. So he fell back down again and again. By the time he finally got out he was soaking wet, and there was a huge metal rod poking out of his shoulder. It looked horrible. But he kept swearing that it didn’t hurt. I thought. ‘Oh man! This guy is an adventure.’ And right then I kissed him on the lips. Because I thought he finally deserved it.”