Posted by Frank M. on November 01, 1998 at 17:35:06:
When I was a child of about 9, my grandfather was the only true male figure I had in my life (my father died when I was three years old). One day, while living in San Juan, Papá took me on a tour of the city. For those of you who remember him, the man could out-walk, out-perform, out-stubborn just about anyone even half his age (gee; ya think it's genetic?!?) Anyway; he took me around old San Juan telling me stories about this building and that building, giving me an unforgettable history lesson about the city as a whole. We went and checked for mail at the main Post Office (I was fascinated by the little combination locks that used letters instead of numbers!), and ate piraguas (spanish-impaired: snow cones) by the park across the street. He even bought me some fresh miel de abeja (spanish-impaired: honey) that came in clear, small liquor bottles (sans the liquor) from one of the many street vendors located throughout the city.
In the afternoon, we went to La Bombonera. For all you gastronomically-inclined folks out there, La Bombonera is THE place to get the best Puerto Rican food and pastries in Old San Juan (well, maybe La Mallorquina wins out on pastries). We walked in and sat down at a table, towards the rear of the restaurant. A man came out and, after greetings and such were exchanged, asked me what I wanted to eat. Once I was done selecting some goodies from the menu, the man walked into the kitchen - he never asked grandad what he wanted! OK. He'll be back, I'm sure. Waiting.......waiting......hmmmm. This is NOT going to go over well with Don Eduardo. After what seemed like forever (in adult timeframes, maybe 25 minutes), the man came out with my order. Along with it was a plate of hot, chicken noodle soup, some toast, and a plate of tostones (spanish-impaired: you don't know what you're missing). Hmmmm....mind-reading and food; not a bad combination. Well, we finished each delectable morsel, then proceeded to get ready to leave. Grandad started walking out, and I wasn't sure what the deal was, but it seemed like we were missing something like, uh, er....the bill! He walked to the front register (ah; maybe THAT'S how they do it!), joked a bit with the person standing there, then grabbed a small, white bag that was handed to him. Papá said his good-byes, and out the door we went. Free food! Gee, I wanna be just like Don Eduardo! We went walking down the street for a bit, and eventually made our way to the entrance of Old San Juan. We sat down for a spell to watch the ancianos (spanish-impaired: the old ones) play dominoes. While he was explaining the game to me, Papá opened up the white bag he was holding, and gave me a guava pastry (there was one in there for him, too). OK; I was impressed. The man not only didn't pay for his food, but got free pastries to boot.
Fast-forward to 1995: Ginger and I make a trip to Puerto Rico to help Mom out when she suffered a stroke (two, actually). When we arrived on the island, I was ready to eat just about anything, as we had been traveling for a spell (Ginger wasn't too keen on food when we arrived - she had had a battle going on between her stomach and the plane ride, and turbulence won). So, after we took care of a few things, I decided to go straight to Old San Juan and visit La Bombonera. As I drove up the street, I was lucky enough to find a parking space almost right in front of the restaurant. I walked in, sat at the counter, and started to look through the menu. A gentleman approached me and eventually took my order. As I was speaking, I noticed that an old man had gone over to sit by the register at the door, just like in the "old days". Once I was through ordering, the old man came over and started to talk with me. "I know you", he said. "Well, I haven't been here in over 27 years", I replied. "Sure, I remember", he continued. "You're Don Eduardo's little grandson." Well, you could have knocked me over with a merengue (pastry, not the dance). He went on: "Sure. You're grandfather used to come in here with you and sit at that table over there." (what can I do to have THAT memory at THAT age?!?) "He used to come in and get his soup and pastry, then would be on his way visiting so-and-so, or doing this-and-that. He was a good man - always paid his tab on time. Yeah; he loved his soup - ate it every time he came in here to visit." Tab? Soup fetish? Ah-ha! That's how he got the magical "free" food! Well, what can I say? "Tabs" were not in my vocabulary (or reasoning) when I was nine. But, nevertheless, the whole process was magical to me...
As I made my way out of the restaurant, the man who had waited on me handed over a bag with some guava pastries - just like when Papá was alive. When I went to pay for the meal, the old man refused my money. "It was nice to see you back", he told me. "We'll add this one to your grandfather's memory."
Papá was a great story-teller - I'm sure that he would have loved the ending to this adventure which he started a long, long time ago...