The Twelve Grapes of Luck (Las doce uvas de la suerte) is a Spanish New Year's Eve tradition where grapes are eaten at each strike of twelve for good luck.
I live not far from Disneyland and can conveniently view the fireworks show any night from my parking garage. Something about a low-key dinner at home followed by a special NYE fireworks show simply rang my New Year’s bell. Curtis planned and executed an extraordinary menu, catering to a Spanish theme inspired by 1080 Recipes by Simone and Inés Ortega. To wrap up the night, I thought to attempt our very first stab at The Twelve Grapes of Luck.
Spanish tradition states that if one eats a grape at each stroke of twelve at the turn of a new year, (s)he will have good luck the year through. Las doce uvas de la suerte didn’t quite happen the way I imagined in 2004. It was 2011. I wasn’t smashed beyond my wildest youthful dreams in a European discotheque, eating grapes from a cava glass. No, I was sitting atop my parking garage in the cold, listening to the menacing booms of fireworks that could not be seen, and struggling to count down without Ryan Seacrest. I never realized the science of it, being that it was always figured out for me. Times Square, I was lost without you.
Hours before midnight, on a walk for Magnum ice cream bars, we found that a thick fog had invited itself to meddle with our NYE plan. At first, the mist promised a more romantic appeal in its potential to illuminate reds and blues through a sultry haze. As the night grew older, the fog grew vengeful, and certainly too thick to safely hail a cab to get closer.
Atop the cement wall, we scrambled to download countdown apps as the fireworks failed to light up the cloudy sky. We watched quietly as our cellphones rolled past 11:59. A hushed “Happy New Year” and a kiss, and the eating of the grapes began without church bells to guide us through each strike of twelve. I’m sure this is not how the Spaniards envision it. Despite the circumstances, we did our best to raise grape after grape to our mouths until all twelve were gone. We sat for a moment, absorbing sounds from celebrations around us. There was laughter and partying, horns honking and guns shooting. Without much ado, we squeezed each others’ hands, collected our empty bowls, and went home to rest. Fresh we awoke and together faced the New Year, luck not required.
Subscribe
Post a Comment