Sazón and Systole: A Love Letter to My Bronx Familias
Click to Enlarge
Submitted by Realba Rodriguez, MD
My abuela used to say that a pot of habichuelas without enough sazón was “comida sabria” — sad food. I grew up believing that. It wasn’t until medical school that I learned her seasoning philosophy and her blood pressure were arguing with each other. And how Dona Olga ended up with a triple bypass.
Now I’m the one holding the cuff. And every week, in my Bronx practice, I watch that same argument play out in patients who could be my tías, my primos, my own mother.
Take my patient —Maria, because half of my patients could be her. She comes in every three months, blood pressure stubbornly sitting at 158/94, insisting she “eats healthy.” And she does, by her own definition: rice, beans, a little pernil on Sundays, sazón in everything because “así sabe a comida de verdad” — that’s what real food tastes like. When I gently mention sodium, she looks at me like I’ve insulted her mother’s cooking. Sometimes I have.
Here’s the thing: she’s not wrong to be proud, and I’m not wrong to be worried. The New York State Department of Health’s most recent data backs up what I see daily — 25.4% of Hispanic adults statewide are diagnosed with high blood pressure, but only 73.6% have it under control with medication, the lowest control rate of any group tracked. In the Bronx, where so many of my patients are Puerto Rican, Dominican, Mexican, and Central and South American, that gap hits home!
So instead of fighting Maria’s sazón, I joined her in the kitchen — figuratively, at least. I started asking patients to bring in their seasoning packets so we could read labels together like we were solving a mystery or watching a telenovela. I showed her that fresh sofrito made with recao, cilantro, and garlic tastes just as “real” as the packet, minus most of the sodium. I taught her an adobo she could make herself with oregano, garlic powder, and citrus — no MSG-loaded shortcut required. She still thinks I’m a little dramatic about salt. I still think her pernil is the best in the Bronx. We’ve met in the middle.
That’s the model I want for our community, honestly — not lectures, but kitchen-table medicine. Cooking demos at churches and senior centers led by promotors who understand both the recipe and the diagnosis. Home blood pressure monitoring reframed as “cuidando tu corazón” instead of one more task on a chart. Family-based counseling, because in most of our households, one person’s grocery list decides everyone’s sodium intake.
This Hispanic Heritage Month, I’m not asking my patients to give up their sazón. I’m asking them to evolve it — the way our families have always adapted without losing who we are. Same love, same flavor, better numbers on the cuff.
