One thing that I missed, but didn’t realize, while I was in Korea was Mexican food. I don’t think I really recognized that there was a severe culinary hole in my life until I had to put a quick salad together for dinner and my only thoughts were: cilantro, corn, tomatoes, beans, onions, cheese, tortillas. At that point, that is when I started to think about tortillas and salsa, I knew that I couldn’t really press on without diving into the culinary tradition that’s come to be all but a staple of American cuisine as a whole (you could argue that point with me, if you’d like. I’m shaky on it for sure).
With my sweet corn that was at the beginning (as we are nearing the end, now) of its season, tomatoes fresh off the vine and cherry tomatoes packed with sweetness, cilantro, basil, Swiss chard ( because it never goes away, folks… never), tofu for protein, and a bed of mixed greens (anything that our CSA share threw at us – arugula, spinach, romaine), I started to prepare. Picking mint from the garden and cilantro up from my co-op, it was going to be light summer fare. Nothing special, but surely Mexican themed.
I would say that the meal was outstanding, but really what took mainstage at the show that was are night was, our visitor strolling down the driveway. A dairy cow from a farm up the way.
See, my family lives outside of town, but by no means the boondocks. Rather, we live about a half-mile off an Upstate New York “main” highway. Our land backs up to a state forest, so we’ve got our privacy, and it seems as though our friend wanted to just check out our digs.
The cow – whose name still is unknown to me – stood at our window, our door, behind the house, and eventually ran into that state forest. An hour late a farmer came to pick it up saying “well, she was sick yesterday. Couldn’t stand. Now she’s running away from me. That’s what medicine will do to ya, huh?”
With bowl of Mexican-inspired salad in my hand and a cow outside, it seemed as though my love of Mexican had been reborn.