When I think of conchas, or “pan Mexicano” as my family calls it, I always remember wiping off the sweet layer that’s on top of the bread. Also the smell, I can never forget the soothing smell the bread has when it’s fresh. My grandma, who I’ve never seen before, sends me bread from Mexico, where she lives. I always like to imagine I’m eating the bread with her, especially since the bread in Mexico that she sends is a little different than the bread that’s made in America. Most of my family lives in America, so I don’t really know much about Mexico. My family isn’t very religious either, and in Mexico religion is a big thing, so the only actual connection with my country is the food. Conchas will always have a comforting feeling for me even though it’s just food, but food for my family is a big deal. It’s what brings us closer, as odd as that sounds. And the meaning I put into conchas makes it more special to me.

– Erika Lucero

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant