As the daughter of Cuban parents who immigrated to the United States in 1949, I was raised on the foods of their country. But as I grew up and became a teenager, my taste was satisfied by a daily cheeseburger and french fries. At the age of fifteen, my mother would tell me it was time for me to learn how to cook because one day, I would have a family, and I would need to feed them some real food. I laughed it off and assured her that I would study and work hard and be able to afford someone to cook for me. She was right, I did all the things I promised, but once I did have a family, I looked back to my roots to provide for them. I found I enjoyed cooking and not only the foods of my country on Thanksgiving Day but also the traditional Cuban foods of Noche Buena. As the years have gone by, my family has become more American than Cuban. Many in my family are losing the Spanish language, yet they still love my cooking. I have preserved in this book a few of my family's favorite recipes to ensure that my children, grandchildren, family, and future generations I will never meet, retain the food of their heritage.