TORONTO — The brown sugar bubbled in the pan. The marinated goat meat stung when added. Spoonfuls of olives and capers were stuffed into the mixture. Then Altagracia Alvino, who can make this dish with her eyes closed, froze.
“Did I put spices in here?” she whispered to herself in Spanish.
Alvino, 66, was careful to make as little noise as possible because it was 7:22 a.m. and her husband and 20-year-old grandson, Vladimir Guerrero Jr., one of baseball’s brightest young stars, were asleep in their rooms. of the family’s apartment in Toronto. However, the familiar aroma of cooking meat was inescapable.
Silver hair in a net, Alvino bent down to inspect the meat, decided it was indeed missing the kick, and held out a packet of crushed red pepper. He had plenty of time to perfect his feast of white rice, baked beans and goat before Guerrero woke up at 11 a.m. and sped off for the Rogers Centre, carrying bags of food to share with both his Blue Jays teammates and their opponents.
Alvino might be the most popular and powerful grandmother in baseball. For nearly two decades, she has filled the bellies of hundreds of players, most of them Latin Americans far from her homeland. Eating her comfort food is a tradition that has become very popular among players from the family’s homeland, the Dominican Republic.
A few have come to call Alvino “abuela,” or grandmother, but most have never met her. He was there for every step in the career of her son Vladimir Guerrero Sr., who was enshrined in the Hall of Fame last year, and now oversees his son.
“I do it out of love,” Alvino said recently as she sipped coffee at the dining room table while the food cooked.
Alvino learned to cook in bulk at her mother’s food stand in Don Gregorio, a small town in the baseball-loving Dominican Republic. After some financial problems in her family, Alvino took over the cooking duties of the kiosk at the age of 10.
No country outside the United States has produced more MLB players than the Dominican Republic, and few families have produced more than the Guerreros. Alvino’s four sons — Vladimir Sr., Wilton, Eleazar and Julio Cesar — all became professional baseball players, and several of their children did as well. Vladimir Jr., a rookie, is the only grandchild in the big leagues now.
Although he ended up living with Vladimir Sr. for most of his 16-year career, he first did so with his older brother Wilton, who reached the major leagues as a Los Angeles Dodger just weeks before Vladimir Sr. joined Montreal Expos in September. 1996.
Wilton told his mother that his Dominican and Venezuelan teammates were craving home-cooked meals, so she made him some to take to the court. She was relieved when Wilton was traded to the Expos in 1998, allowing her to cook for both sons. Although Wilton left Montreal in 2000, Alvino stayed with Vladimir Sr. for the rest of his career, including stops in Texas, Baltimore and Anaheim, where even Angels owner Arte Moreno joined in on Alvino’s festivities.
Alvino assumed she was done cooking for ballplayers in 2011 when Vladimir Sr. ended his league career. But by 2016, Vladimir Jr., whom she helped raise, was playing professionally, and Alvino was back to her routine. He lived with him at all levels of the minor leagues, from spring training in Dunedin, Fla., to Class AAA Buffalo. Guerrero joked last year that he would go to China with him if he somehow ended up there.
“As long as I have strength in me, I have to give them that strength,” Alvino said of her grandchildren. “That’s how I committed to it.”
To this day, Alvino refuses money for her efforts, even to cover the cost of supplies. Guerrero, who asked his grandparents to live with him in Toronto, was proud to become part of the tradition of sharing food.
“I had to keep doing it,” he said.
Her support is not only culinary. She attends every home game and encourages him to maintain a balanced temperament, rolling her eyes when she catches him complaining to the referee.
“He always tells me to respect the game and respect my teammates,” Guerrero said.
This mother nature fuels her cooking. She makes all the chopping, mixing and cooking a labor of love, even when her knees hurt. She recently joked that the players she has nurtured for decades are part of her brood, along with her own 23 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.
“I didn’t expect him to still be cooking, but it was nice to see he’s still cooking,” said Nelson Cruz, 39, who first tried Albino’s cooking when he was 25 and who he followed suit, taking meals to the park for his team and visitors. “When we came to Toronto this year, I had her food. It’s still the same good food I ate in 2006.”
On a recent morning, Alvino cooked 15 pounds of goat, two pounds of red beans and 10 pounds of rice. She speaks enough English to order most of what she needs from the store near her grandson’s apartment, which is just a few blocks from the Rogers Centre. During a long home stay, the refrigerator in the kitchen and a small one in the living room, on loan from the Blue Jays, fill up.
Many have sought out Alvino’s recipes, including the Blue Jays’ clubhouse chef, but she has no official ones.
“All I’m measuring is the rice, so it’s not cooked well,” she said as she tossed it with oil and water into a large pan.
Her secret is the sauce (sofrito) for her favorite baked beans. It started with a puree of cilantro, onion, garlic, celery and oregano, which he got it from the Dominican Republic because, he said, it tastes better. He added tomato paste, spice blends, chicken stock powder and sugar, giving the beans a hint of sweetness that he thinks sets them apart.
“It’s amazing,” Blue Jays second baseman Cavan Biggio, 24, who is from Texas, said of Alvino’s cooking.
“The best,” added Rafael Devers, a Dominican 22-year-old Boston Red Sox third baseman who likened Alvino’s cooking to that of his mother and grandmother.
Everyone knows that Alvino is the backbone of the Guerrero family. When the Blue Jays wanted Guerrero to lose weight — she was listed at 6-foot-2, 250 pounds last winter — they talked to her.
“The boss,” said Blue Jays manager Charlie Montoyo, who is from Puerto Rico and made sure to meet with her on a trip to the Dominican Republic after he was hired.
During spring training, Alvino said, Guerrero lost 12 pounds after feeding him mostly smoothies, multigrain toast and grilled meats, fish and vegetables.
However, during the six-month regular season, his diet — and those of players who receive the special meals — matters less, since he burns so many calories exercising and playing.
Although players from all countries eat her food, Alvino always checks on her grandson to see how many Dominicans are on the opposing team. Last weekend, there was just one – Domingo Santana – for the visiting Seattle Mariners.
Players don’t need to request a meal: Guerrero brings it to the park himself and clubhouse assistants take it to the visitor’s clubhouse.
“Sometimes I don’t even try cooking,” Alvino said.
It may seem like every Dominican player knows Alvino or has a connection to her. Yankees pitcher Luis Severino, 25, said his family’s cook in New York is Alvino’s daughter-in-law. Before a game in Toronto this season, Alvino’s delivery to the Yankees’ clubhouse was gobbled up so quickly that Severino requested a special order through the bride. He received it the next day.
“When we’re together as a family, he’s always cooking,” said Ketel Marte, 25, an Arizona Diamondbacks player who is married to one of Alvino’s granddaughters.
There is only one rule for those receiving Alvino’s food at the stadium: Wash and send back the plastic container. When Severino’s didn’t return after one game, Alvino sent another the next day plus a note on top: “Return the container.”
