On the white adobe wall of a small, one-story building on West Washington Street downtown, there is an aging mural now shaded by a large palo verde and partially hidden by cactus seemingly there to protect it.
It is easy to miss if you arenβt looking for it, but for a time β a long time β it was among the most familiar signs in Tucson.
It welcomed customers to El Rapido Mexican Food, which opened in 1933 and grew like the city around it for more than 65 years.
El Rapido evolved from a small neighborhood market to a popular tortilleria to a bustling lunch counter frequented by judges from the nearby courthouse and politicos from city hall.
βWe even delivered,β Melani Martinez laughed. βMy brother and I would hop on our little bikes and take lunch orders all over downtown.β
The business ultimately closed in 2000, but there is obviously a story there and who better to tell it than Martinez β a Borderlands writing instructor at the University of Arizona. Luckily for us, she does just that in βThe Molino,β a loving memoir about a family that literally served our community for decades.
Released Sept. 24 by University of Arizona Press, βThe Molinoβ is easy to spot. The cover is a photo of Martinez and her brother Ricky posing in front of that Washington Street mural in 1989.
It is a story about food, to be sure. More importantly, it is a story about family, the four generations of Perezes and Peyrons who managed and worked at El Rapido for 67 years.
Martinez introduces us to her great-grandparents, Aurelio and Martina Perez, who opened a small neighborhood market near the presidio during the Great Depression.
She describes the molino, a device that would grind and mix corn into masa.
She remembers the storeβs first βtortilladora,β a large black machine that would transform balls of dough into warm, ready-to-eat tortillas.
βMy job, and my brotherβs job when we were little, was to take the finished tortillas off the end of the conveyor belt and put them in bags so we could sell them,β Martinez recalled. βIt was a family business. Grandparents, aunts, uncles β¦ we all pitched in.β
Still, βThe Molinoβ is more than a nostalgic stroll down memory lane.
It also recounts Martinezβs own struggles to find her place β¦ and whether that place should be El Rapido.
βBy the time I was in high school and then college, I had pretty much decided to leave the restaurant behind,β she confessed. βI had worked there most of my life. I wanted to try something else, do something new.β
Then, in the fall of 2000, UA Professor Alison Deming asked her creative writing class to submit personal essays.
βIt was the first time Iβd written anything about my life, about my family,β Martinez said. βIt was the first time I really tried to make sense of all the things in my head. It was hard.β
If writing the story was hard, reading it would become heartbreaking.
A week after submitting her essay, Martinez learned her father would be closing the restaurant for good on Christmas Eve. A week after that, she was asked to read her story in class.
βWhen I had to read it out loud, I broke down crying,β she recalls, tears again moistening her cheeks. βBy then, I knew we were closing. I finally realized how much that meant to me.β
In time, Martinez decided to expand her original story into something more. Later still, she thought she might have a book. Now, more than 20 years later, she does.
βPart of the reason I wanted to write the book was to help me understand how I got to the place I was in college,β she said. βHow might the story have been different if I hadnβt been so sure I wanted to leave the restaurant behind. It wasnβt until I started writing it down that I started to see how much it all mattered.β
The book, she said, is a hybrid memoir that weaves together history, stories, memories and poems.
βI struggled with it for a long time,β Martinez said. βThe people in my family didnβt really want to talk about the history much. They didnβt like me showing up with my recorder. But they all had stories β¦ stories about food, beauty, love, faith. I finally decided to mix it all together β¦ like you would with a molino.β
The final touch was a decision to introduce a second narrator to the tale: the man napping beneath the saguaro on that Washington Street mural.
βI watched my Uncle Alberto paint that mural,β Martinez said. βThere was something about that image that I knew was important to my family, so in my book I let him tell his side of the story. He is the poet. He is the thought. When I could have a conversation with him on the page, thatβs when I knew the book was finished.β
UA Press and Los Descendientes de Tucson will host a book-launch party for βThe Molinoβ on Sept. 29 at the Tucson Museum of Art, 140 N. Main Ave. The celebration is at 3 p.m. and is open to all. Click here to register.