Feliz Pascua
I got back from the O.C. last night, people, and I only drove 85 part of the way. Well, most of the way. I did slow down on residential streets, so an innocent housecat or a small child would not get smooshed under my rental car. I don't think that is covered in my rental agreement.
I didn't see Mischa Barton or anyone famous, but let me tell you, people cannot drive in Orange County. Maybe they can't see over the steering wheels of their ginormous Mercedes SUV, or maybe their chauffeur had the day off, because I saw more near death exeperiences in my short .63 mile drive from my hotel to my workplace than I care to admit. I am glad to be home, and I don't have to go back to the O.C. except for a quick trip tomorrow.
This is the first year that I did not fix a full Easter spread of ham, potatoes, green beans, rolls, relish, and and an assortment of desserts. The Rev. and I didn't have any plans for after "He is Risen, Indeed" except to go home and take a nap. Maybe we would scavenge for leftovers, or order a pizza.
Our plans changed after one of our ladies invited us over to her house for menudo. She had invited us over before for posole, and being that I am white girl from east of the Mississippi who can't speak Spanish, I didn't know what I was eating. Think spicy red broth with meat and then you add a heaping handful of shredded cabbage, fresh salsa, a squeeze of lime juice, and fresh cilantro. A bowl of chopped jalapenos made the round at the table also, and it all got washed down with beer. Sinus clearing and GOOD. Some of the meat was still on the bone, and I said, "This meat is so tender, and that is an unusual bone. What cut of meat do you use?" She replied, "I use the spina, the pig's spine, and sometimes I use the feet." I had been shredding the meat off of one of the vertebrae. She promised that the next time she made it she would teach me and have us over. Your stomach may be churling now, but I have to tell you there is much joy and reward in being an adventurous eater. Besides, these are our church members, and I didn't want to refuse what they all considered a great delicacy. I wound up making a new friend as we compared notes on soup making. We both agreed that a good broth was important, with lots of onion and garlic, and when you are boiling the meat, you have to constantly skim the scum that floats to the top of pot. Somehow the conversation turned to menudo, and she again promised that the next time she made it, she would have us over for a taste test.
For you gringas y gringos, menudo is tripe soup. For those of you who do not know what tripe is, it is the stomach lining of a cow. It looks like an enlarged honeycomb and because it is so tough, you have to simmer it for a long time to make it tender. It is also considered a delicacy, and the Mexican restaurants that advertise it for sale on Fridays and Saturdays always have a line of people waiting to purchase it by the gallon. The lines of of people and the way their faces became blissful and glazed when I asked about it, just piqued my curiousity about its taste. It's considered a hangover cure (maybe why its for sale on the weekend?), and everyone says you have to know someone who makes it and is willing to share in order to get the full effect of its powers. Ha! I know someone! And she is willing to share!
I had never had tripe before, so I didn't know what to expect. I ate two bowls sprinkled with fresh chopped onion and cilantro, fresh lemon juice, fresh chopped serrano chilies, and a homemade hot sauce that made my lips tingle. Again, a spicy red broth, but this one had hominy and pieces of tripe floating in it. She also gave us the pig's foot and told us to wrap some of the meat in a fresh tortilla and eat that. A cultural experience for sure. The conversation veered from food to Tijuana, to mispronouncing Spanish words with disastrous results, and back to food again. The Rev. and I both enjoyed ourselves immensely, but a nap was required when we staggered into the house. We also brought home a pot of menudo, and I am sure that will be dinner tonight.
I missed the Easter ham this year and I missed Mom's coconut cream torte, but I had a great afternoon making some great connections with some lovely people. And they were so nice about my terrible Spanish pronunciation. There is a BIG difference between churros and chorros. You don't want to order chorros when you are ordering churros.
Feliz Pascua, ya'll.
I didn't see Mischa Barton or anyone famous, but let me tell you, people cannot drive in Orange County. Maybe they can't see over the steering wheels of their ginormous Mercedes SUV, or maybe their chauffeur had the day off, because I saw more near death exeperiences in my short .63 mile drive from my hotel to my workplace than I care to admit. I am glad to be home, and I don't have to go back to the O.C. except for a quick trip tomorrow.
This is the first year that I did not fix a full Easter spread of ham, potatoes, green beans, rolls, relish, and and an assortment of desserts. The Rev. and I didn't have any plans for after "He is Risen, Indeed" except to go home and take a nap. Maybe we would scavenge for leftovers, or order a pizza.
Our plans changed after one of our ladies invited us over to her house for menudo. She had invited us over before for posole, and being that I am white girl from east of the Mississippi who can't speak Spanish, I didn't know what I was eating. Think spicy red broth with meat and then you add a heaping handful of shredded cabbage, fresh salsa, a squeeze of lime juice, and fresh cilantro. A bowl of chopped jalapenos made the round at the table also, and it all got washed down with beer. Sinus clearing and GOOD. Some of the meat was still on the bone, and I said, "This meat is so tender, and that is an unusual bone. What cut of meat do you use?" She replied, "I use the spina, the pig's spine, and sometimes I use the feet." I had been shredding the meat off of one of the vertebrae. She promised that the next time she made it she would teach me and have us over. Your stomach may be churling now, but I have to tell you there is much joy and reward in being an adventurous eater. Besides, these are our church members, and I didn't want to refuse what they all considered a great delicacy. I wound up making a new friend as we compared notes on soup making. We both agreed that a good broth was important, with lots of onion and garlic, and when you are boiling the meat, you have to constantly skim the scum that floats to the top of pot. Somehow the conversation turned to menudo, and she again promised that the next time she made it, she would have us over for a taste test.
For you gringas y gringos, menudo is tripe soup. For those of you who do not know what tripe is, it is the stomach lining of a cow. It looks like an enlarged honeycomb and because it is so tough, you have to simmer it for a long time to make it tender. It is also considered a delicacy, and the Mexican restaurants that advertise it for sale on Fridays and Saturdays always have a line of people waiting to purchase it by the gallon. The lines of of people and the way their faces became blissful and glazed when I asked about it, just piqued my curiousity about its taste. It's considered a hangover cure (maybe why its for sale on the weekend?), and everyone says you have to know someone who makes it and is willing to share in order to get the full effect of its powers. Ha! I know someone! And she is willing to share!
I had never had tripe before, so I didn't know what to expect. I ate two bowls sprinkled with fresh chopped onion and cilantro, fresh lemon juice, fresh chopped serrano chilies, and a homemade hot sauce that made my lips tingle. Again, a spicy red broth, but this one had hominy and pieces of tripe floating in it. She also gave us the pig's foot and told us to wrap some of the meat in a fresh tortilla and eat that. A cultural experience for sure. The conversation veered from food to Tijuana, to mispronouncing Spanish words with disastrous results, and back to food again. The Rev. and I both enjoyed ourselves immensely, but a nap was required when we staggered into the house. We also brought home a pot of menudo, and I am sure that will be dinner tonight.
I missed the Easter ham this year and I missed Mom's coconut cream torte, but I had a great afternoon making some great connections with some lovely people. And they were so nice about my terrible Spanish pronunciation. There is a BIG difference between churros and chorros. You don't want to order chorros when you are ordering churros.
Feliz Pascua, ya'll.
posted by pastorschick at
8:21 AM
4 Comments:
this pastorschick SHOULD love menudo...after all the years of 'sucking heads & pinching tails'. Oh, sorry y'all. that's how one eats crawfish down here.
OK, so what is chorros? I got the menudo and feliz pascua. (My Spanish is next to nil.)
What a great venture you had. Now if you lived in Africa, you could have eaten mealy-mealy or however you spell what they eat. But I'll bet you would have a more difficult time with the ingredients.
Guess it's what you get used to or whatever is native. Most importantly, it's making good memories and good connections with people of other cultures, and increasing the opportunities to share the spiritual food we have had since day 1! Bless your spirit of adventure!
Chorros are what you get if you eat bad menudo.
oh, pupus are good....if you are in Hawai'i
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home