Wolves of No World | Milanesas de la Lobizona

“Sometimes reality strays so far from what’s rational that we can only explain it through fantasy.” Romina Garber, Lobizona.

When I created this blog ten years ago, I wanted to immerse myself in stories and bring my imagination into reality. Admittedly, I wish I could ignore reality a bit more these past couple of years (and months, especially). As I mentioned in my last post, however, the most important stories are those that radiate with truth and reality — whether symbolic, inconvenient, or simply unpalatable. Today’s post features a recipe for Milanesas, inspired by Lobizona, the first novel in Romina Garber’s Wolves of No World series. This YA novel captures the challenges of identity labels, such as gender and documented status, within a setting and style inspired by Argentine folklore and magical realism. You can probably imagine why I chose this time to post it.

Click here to skip to the recipe for Milanesas de la Lobizona.

Wolves of No World

Garber’s novel follows Manuela Azul, a teenage undocumented Argentine immigrant living in the United States with her mother and grandmother. Not only is Manuela hiding from her father’s criminal family and ICE, but her life is further complicated by her supernatural eyes and a nightmare-filled monthly cycle that occurs only when the moon is full. When an ICE raid tears away her only caregivers, fate leads her through a tear in reality and into the magic-threaded world of her father: Lunaris. Here, she learns the truth of her identity: she is a Lobizona—a werewolf. In Lunaris, however, only men are lobizones. By their tradition, her existence is illegal. Caught between two cultures that would rather see her deported or dead, Manuela finds solace in a new group of friends who believe “[m]an-made borders shouldn’t matter more than people.”

Romina Garber explains in her author’s note that she wrote Lobizona while inspired by her experience growing up as an immigrant here in the US. Manuela’s journey mirrors the experience of existing without fully belonging to either the culture you came from or the one you entered. I’m the great-granddaughter of Romanian immigrants, and I’ve been told that our family succeeded in this country because they assimilated into its culture. They also had the privilege of being white and coming to this country before 1924, when all it took to immigrate legally was a relatively quick process through Ellis Island. Assimilation only cost them their last name and their language. Not everyone has the luxury of hiding everything they are to prevent others’ slight discomfort, even less so now. And I ask you, readers, who believe yourselves intelligent and compassionate, why should they?

Who are we to deny others’ rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness because they were born differently?

Historically, if I’m honest? American as hell.

But I want to maintain hope that our country’s regression is only temporary. As Romina Garber puts it in Lobizona, we need to: “Plant [our] new garden with the seeds of equality, water it with tolerance and empathy, and warm it with the temperate heat of truth.”

Lobizona Luncheon

Garber features food in Lobizona as a tool for worldbuilding, character development, and even pacing. In Lunaris, we see a parrillada (barbecue feast) with grills powered by magic stones and flowers filled with enchanted nectar. Manuela, upon waking from her coma-like lunar cycle, can also smell all the meals cooked on previous nights in the kitchen — foreshadowing her wolf-like powers. She mentions the “spaghetti Bolognese [her family] must have had on [her] second night of lunaritis” and that “[l]ast night, they made milanesas, [her] all-time favorite meal; when [she] opened the fridge, [she] saw they left [her] a couple of breaded filets of meat for lunch.” With that, I decided to make milanesas.

Milanesas are similar and likely integrated from Italian veal parmigiana. Traditionally, beef round steak is pounded thin, soaked in beaten egg, and then coated in breadcrumbs before deep-frying. I find it interesting that Manuela’s favorite Argentine dish also came from European immigrants — hence its name “Milanesa” in reference to Milan. Like the United States, Argentina is also a melting pot of ethnicities and cultures, shaped by heavy immigration during the late 1800s to the mid-1900s. One of my great-grandfathers and his family, due to a shady travel broker, even lived there for a time before coming to the US. Come to think of it, I might still have distant relatives there — his sister did marry a gaucho, after all.

Since Tiago, Manuela’s love interest, smells of cedar and thyme, I made a thyme-heavy chimichurri. I also incorporated yerba mate, as it’s how the denizens of Lunaris maintain their powers when the moon isn’t full. Yerba mate, often sold and consumed as tea, tastes like a super-concentrated green tea with earthy, toasted-nut notes. It’s traditionally served in dried gourds with a straining straw in Argentina, though you can also buy it bagged should you find yourself gourd-less.

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Full Moon Feast

Like to cook with a soundtrack? I’ve created a Spotify playlist for you to listen and cook along to!