Abuela, Chef, Boss: Vladimir Guerrero Jr.’s Grandmother Feeds the Majors (Published 2019)

TORONTO — Brown sugar bubbled in the pan. Marinated goat meat sizzled as it was added. Spoonfuls of olives and capers were tossed into the mix. Then Altagracia Alvino, who can make this dish with her eyes closed, froze.

“Did I put herbs in here?” she whispered to herself in Spanish.

Alvino, 66, was careful to keep the noise to a minimum because it was 7:22 a.m. and her husband and 20-year-old grandson, Vladimir Guerrero Jr., one of baseball’s most promising young stars, were asleep in their rooms in the family’s Toronto apartment. But the familiar smell of cooking meat was unavoidable.

Silver hair in a net, Alvino leaned forward to inspect the meat, decided it was indeed not spicy enough, and grabbed a packet of crushed red pepper. She had plenty of time to perfect the feast of white rice, stewed beans, and goat before Guerrero woke at 11 and left quickly in front of Rogers Centre, where he carried bags full of food to share with both his Blue Jays teammates and their opponents.

Alvino is perhaps the most popular and powerful grandmother in baseball. For about two decades, she has fed the bellies of hundreds of players, most of whom were Latin Americans far from home. Eating her comfort food is a tradition which has become especially popular among players from the family’s home country, the Dominican Republic.

A few have started calling Alvino “abuela” or grandma, but most have never met her. She was there for every step in the career of her son Vladimir Guerrero Sr., who was inducted into the Hall of Fame last year and now oversees his son’s business.

“I do it out of love,” Alvino said recently as she sipped coffee at the dining room table while dinner 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 troubles in her family, Alvino took over the stall’s cooking duties at age 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 went on to play professional baseball, as did several of their children. Vladimir Jr., a rookie, is now the only grandson in the major leagues.

Although she ultimately lived with Vladimir Sr. for most of his 16-year career, she first did so with his older brother Wilton, who reached the Major Leagues with the Los Angeles Dodgers just weeks before Vladimir Sr. joined the 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 stadium. She was relieved when Wilton was traded to the Expos in 1998, allowing her to cook for both sons. Though Wilton left Montreal in 2000, Alvino remained 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 feasts.

Alvino assumed she was done cooking for baseball players in 2011, when Vladimir Sr. ended his major league career. But by 2016, Vladimir Jr., whom she had helped raise, was playing professionally, and Alvino was back in her routine. She lived with him at every level of the minor leagues, from spring training in Dunedin, Fla., to Class AAA Buffalo. Guerrero joked last year that she would go to China with him if he somehow made it there.

“As long as I have strength in me, I have to give that strength to them,” Alvino said of her grandchildren. “So I dedicated myself to this.”

To this day, Alvino refuses to give money for her efforts, even to cover the cost of supplies. Guerrero, who invited his grandparents to live with him in Toronto, was proud to be part of the tradition of sharing food.

“I had to keep going,” he said.

Her support isn’t just culinary. She’s at every home game, encouraging him to keep an even temperament, and rolling her eyes when she catches him complaining to the referee.

“She always tells me to respect the game and my teammates,” Guerrero said.

That motherly nature fuels her cooking. She does all the chopping, stirring and cooking as a labor of love, even when her knees ache. She recently joked that the players she has nurtured over the decades are part of her brood, along with her own 23 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.

“I didn’t expect her to still be cooking, but it was satisfying to see her still doing it,” said Minnesota Twins forward Nelson Cruz, 39, who first tried Alvino’s cooking when he was 25 and who has followed her example and brought 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 had in 2006.”

On a recent morning, Alvino cooked 15 pounds of goat, two pounds of red beans and 10 pounds of rice. She speaks just enough English to order most of what she needs from the store near her grandson’s apartment, which is just a few blocks from Rogers Centre. During a long homestand, the refrigerator in the kitchen and a small one in the living room, borrowed from the Blue Jays, are packed.

Many have asked for Alvino’s recipes, including the Blue Jays’ clubhouse chef, but she has no official recipes.

“The only thing I measure is the rice, so it doesn’t overcook,” she said as she poured the rice, oil and water, into a large pot.

Her secret is the sauce (sofrito) for her beloved stewed beans. She started with a puree of cilantro, onion, garlic, celery and oregano, which She got it from the Dominican Republic because, she said, it tastes better. She added tomato paste, spice mixes, chicken bouillon powder and sugar, which gave the beans a hint of sweetness that she thinks sets them apart.

“It’s amazing,” Blue Jays second baseman Cavan Biggio, 24, a Texas native, said of Alvino’s cooking.

“The best,” added Rafael Devers, a 22-year-old Dominican third baseman for the Boston Red Sox, who compared Alvino’s cooking to that of his mother and grandmother.

Everyone knows Alvino is the backbone of the Guerrero family. When the Blue Jays wanted Guerrero to lose weight — he was listed last winter at 6-foot-2, 250 pounds — they talked to her.

“The boss,” said Blue Jays manager Charlie Montoyo, who is from Puerto Rico and made sure to meet her during a trip to the Dominican Republic after he was hired.

Alvino said Guerrero lost 12 pounds during spring training after feeding him mostly smoothies, multigrain bread and grilled meats, fish and vegetables.

But during the six-month regular season, his diet (and that of the players who get the special meals) is less important because he burns so many calories practicing and playing.

Although players from all over eat her food, Alvino always checks with her grandson to see how many Dominicans are on the other team. Last weekend, there was only one — Domingo Santana — for the visiting Seattle Mariners.

Players do not need to request a meal: Guerrero will bring it to the park himself and the clubhouse assistants will bring it to the visitors’ clubhouse.

“Sometimes I don’t even try to cook myself,” Alvino said.

It seems like every Dominican player knows or has a connection to Alvino. 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 locker room was devoured so quickly that Severino called in the daughter-in-law to request a special order. He received it the next day.

“When we’re together as a family, she’s always cooking,” said Ketel Marte, 25, an all-around player for the Arizona Diamondbacks who is married to one of Alvino’s granddaughters.

There is only one rule for those who receive Alvino’s food at the stadium: wash the plastic container and return it. When Severino’s didn’t come back after one game, Alvino’s sent another the next day, with a note on top: “Return the container.”