Nochebuena Unites the Generations of My Family, Through Creamy Coquito and Comforting Pasteles

For countless Latino and Filipino families across the globe, Nochebuena (celebrated on Christmas Eve) is where the real Christmas magic happens. In my Afro-Caribbean Latino home, there are constant bursts of laughter, sweet coquito to warm hearts and stir dancing feet, never-ending music, and a flavorful feast. For me, Nochebuena (“the good night” in Spanish) is more than a holiday or a dinner: it’s a symphony of traditions played on bellies and souls. 

When I was a child, my family’s Nochebuena tradition was unmatched. My maternal grandmother, Bebe Iris, and my aunts would prep for a month. Stock simmered on the stove, and yuca and plantains were mashed weeks in advance, making the kitchen aromas an intoxicating reminder that the holidays were here. When Christmas Eve arrived, we would eat all night, feasting on tender chicken and pork pasteles, arroz con gandules, rellenos de plátanos, budin de pan, and much more, all washed down with my grandmother’s creamy coquito. I can still taste the food just thinking about it. 

Growing up Afro Latino in Pennsylvania, Nochebuena reaffirmed the significance of my Puerto Rican heritage. Today, it continues to do so, profoundly influencing my cooking and family values. My grandmother passed away when I was eight, but she lives on every time I celebrate Nochebuena with my family, keeping her traditions and her memory alive through the food we make together (while my mom yells at me to turn down the stove). 

These days, we gather at my parents’ house in Pennsylvania, and make the same dishes my grandmother did. We get started a couple of days before the holiday, marinating meats and doing whatever prep work can be done ahead of time — I tackle some of it in my New York City apartment kitchen; other things I delegate to my parents. My sister is in charge of the coquito, and my kids make the pasteles with me, tying the strings on them up into cute bows. 

When it’s time to eat, we set the table for a family-style meal, laying out a red tablecloth and lighting white candles. (If it was up to my mom, we’d use paper plates, but the rest of us have held the line.) We used to start the meal late, around 9:30 at night, but lately we start earlier so the kids can participate. Each dish on the laden table is a love letter passed down through generations. Each peal of laughter as we feast is a line in my family history. 

Nochebuena may look a little different today than when I was a kid, but it still holds the same importance for me now as it did back then — a reminder of my heritage, the culinary traditions that shaped my life, and the unbreakable bond of family.