I'm currently listening to classic salsa music and looking through some photos of my last trip to Puerto Rico to get some inspiration for my first post. And it hits me: sofrito.

Of course. What better way to kick off my writing than talking about the literal foundation of my cooking journey?

For as long as I remember, the one and only smell that brings me back home is the smell of sofrito hitting hot oil in a pan. And believe me, ask any Puerto Rican and they will tell you the same thing. Growing up, one of my first jobs in the kitchen was helping my mom make sofrito. This foundation was taught to me early on along with these three rules: use what you have on hand, don't waste food, and don't cook for someone when you're angry. Sound advice.

Since Puerto Rican cuisine is heavily influenced by the Taíno Indian, Spanish, and African cultures, many unique indigenous ingredients and flavors come into play with our dishes. But the foundation is the same: sofrito.

It's an aromatic seasoning base that's mainly composed of peppers, garlic, onions, culantro, and cilantro. We use it for rice, beans, stews, and soups. Scrambled eggs. Marinades. Sauces. Anything savory that can use an extra kick of flavor, we throw it in there. To me, sofrito has the ability to turn a truly humble dish like rice and beans into something magical by coaxing tremendous flavor out of our food.

Trying to find the right words to describe how important sofrito is to me is exactly what this post is all about. Sofrito represents my roots, my homeland, and my culture. It represents my people. It reminds me of my mom and abuela spending hours in the kitchen to make an amazing meal for the family. It reminds me of picking plantains and shucking pigeon peas on a hill outside of my abuelo's house. It reminds me of the hard work and satisfaction I get from cooking someone I care about a great and satisfying meal.

Sofrito is life. It's a labor of love. It's a project.