My food is pan de coco from Honduras. The literal translation is coconut bread, but this bread did not have any coconut chunks or glazes. By look, you would not be able to differentiate from a Hawaiian bread roll. However, by the smell, it was absolutely different and amazing. It was a combination of the perfect toast with a coconut aroma. Growing up in the city, we didn’t have pan de coco often. It was not sold in the cities. It was always a special treat when we were en route to the beach. At the time, I didn’t  know much about the roads in Honduras since I was young and didn’t drive, but I knew the road of the house of the lady that sold the bread. I can still picture her front door. I always knew we were approaching as well, because the road was not paved so I could feel the road getting bumpy. When we finally got there, my dad would go and purchase the bread and we waited in the back seat impatiently. Finally, the door would open and the smell would overtake the car. We would each get a piece to eat on the road that was warm. The rest was saved for home, to eat the right way: toasted with just a little bit of butter. It was exciting to know that when we got home, we would get to eat it again. I loved going on some weekends to the beach because I knew that we were getting pan de coco! I miss it a lot. Now, when we visit Honduras, we don't always get to eat it because on vacation, we visit family instead of beaches. It is a rare treat to be able to eat pan de coco again. 

– R

Relationship:  Im/migrant who arrived as a child Im/migrant who arrived as a child