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Laekan Zea Kemp Biography

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“I list what I had for breakfast. I whisper the ingredients for my signature coconut cake. I take a deep breath, the scents of a thousand shifts at the restaurant tucked into the fabric of the front seat. I start listing them too: mango and cilantro and epazote, tomatillos and roasted pepitas and tortillas. The truth is, I can't sleep without those smells tangled in my hair.”

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Book:Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet
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“Steaming meat slides in our direction, Lucas leading it onto a plate before glancing up at the ticket. He reaches for his belt, covering the meat in some orange sauce and then using his gloved hands to load it with toppings from the trays in front of us. There's cilantro, onions, lime wedges, corn salsa, avocados, and chili peppers. Ten different kinds of salsa, all marked with different colored tape that read either PUSSIES, NIÑOS, BADASS MOFOS, or LOCO. I assume they're heat indexes, and Lucas tells me to fill some plastic cups with a few milds, I reach for the salsa marked PUSSIES. "Whoa, careful." Lucas points to a bottle out of sight. I pull it to the front and it reads GABACHOS. "Pen..." Lucas taps the salsa I reached for first. "Took offense to the labels. Now Pussies is the hottest salsa we have.”

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Book:Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet
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“We've reached that point in the night when we're slinging more drinks than tacos, and the Frankenstein monsters on our menu- which I'd created specifically for the inebriated- are flooding the line. There's the fried egg pork carnitas perfect for a pounding headache, and the barbacoa with bacon and refried beans that soaks up alcohol like a sponge. I watch as one of the waitresses carries out a stack of corn tortillas filled with tripas and potatoes smothered in queso blanco- the holy grail of hangover remedies.”

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Book:Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet
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“I would appreciate it if you'd turn it down." He tries to wrestle out of Pen's grasp. "It's a free country." "I'm actually aware of that," Pen says. "Which means you are free to choose self-preservation and turn down your god-awful music. As long as one of you idiots can manage to find the volume knob. It's the little round thing about the size of your brain.”

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Book:Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet
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