Oh good, we have a new holiday to look forward to this year.  International Good Day day.

lahatiel:

It should actually be November 30th, 1988. I think I found some errors in Donovan Strain’s calculations about when Ice Cube’s “Good Day” occurred, and explain my own findings below.

I feel somewhat silly making this my first-ever Tumblr post on an account I’ve had open, forgotten and unused, for over a year, but I was so happy two days ago when I found all the links to his original post. I thought it was awesome, hilarious, and I was all set to celebrate on January 20th next year. But then I caught a link tonight (well, last night, by now) to another blog post about it, and saw a comment left about the beeper information being incorrect (eliminating two ‘88/’89 dates for being too early). I thought, “Hey, they’re right: I was already in high school then and beepers weren’t widespread yet, but they were around!” So I started doing some additional research and found that to be the first of three mistakes which, I believe, eliminate Donovan Strain’s proposed Jan. 20, 1992 date from consideration, and I posit November 30th, 1988 as the actual “Good Day” day instead:

1. As mentioned above: pagers certainly weren’t yet as widespread in ‘88/’89 as they’d later become but, speaking as someone who was already in high school in those years, I can say that they were definitely were available — and I’d say that a South Central gangsta would’ve been a likely candidate to have one earlier than most. So we shouldn’t use that as the sole reason to eliminate ‘88/’89 from consideration But on top of that, consider these additional facts we know about Cube’s personal life from the VH1’s “Behind the Music: Ice Cube” episode…
2. Cube started dated Kimberly Woodruff (his still-current wife) in the summer of ‘88, before any of the those final four dates. He’s famous for having always been a loyal one-woman man, who always went home to Kim and his family rather than partying after shows, so we can assume he’s talking about the same Kim. But the lyric in question goes: “I got a beep from Kim, and she can fuck all night,” which comes after the mention that he’d been trying to fuck her since the twelfth grade. Now, I can see Cube spitting those lines about a day that happened while the two were just dating — but after she was already his fiancee and the mother of his child? I just don’t think so. Certainly not about a day in January ‘91, when Kim was eight months pregnant! And highly unlikely for January ‘92 either, when their firstborn was one year old and they’d be married later that same year. And the final nail in January 20, 1992 coffin is…
3. We know that in ‘88 and ‘89, Cube still lived at home with his mom — the lack of cash-flow he saw from NWA, forcing him to stay at home, was part of what lead to him leaving the group. But Cube got into an argument with Priority Records five days after his first son’s birth in Feb. ‘91 over his not getting paid an advance on his solo album — an advance with which he planned to get a house for himself, Kim, and their child. The argument lead to his smashing up the Priority offices with an aluminum baseball bat, which in return lead to his getting his advance. Thus, even if we assume a month or two before he actually cashed a check from the label, a couple months to get moving on a house hunt, a month or two of actual house-hunting, a month to close escrow, and a couple weeks to get settled in, we can also safely say that by Jan. 20, 1992, Ice Cube was no longer living with his mom, dropping Kim off somewhere after he’d fucked her.

So what does that leave us? We return our focus to the Nov. 30, 88 and April 4, 89 dates — which, you’ll recall, were eliminated solely on the basis of a false assumption about beeper availability. You’re now talking about dates in the wake of the release of “Straight Outta Compton,” when it was blowing up. We know Cube still lived at home with his mom during those years but you’re still dealing with touring, press, MTV, etc., all of which makes it tough to nail down one of those two dates as being calm enough for Cube to have such an uneventful day.  However, there’s still one more heretofore unexplored clue left: after putting Kim’s ass to sleep, Ice Cube had a Fatburger at 2 a.m. Now, it’s nearly impossible to know now what the operating schedule was for an unknown Fatburger over twenty years ago, one thing is true for the vast majority of Fatburgers across the L.A. metro area: they close at midnight or earlier Sunday-Thursday, but stay open a couple hours later on Friday and Saturday nights. And what does a calendar tell us? That April 4, 1989 was a Tuesday. (For the record, Jan. 20, 1992 was a Monday, and so is eliminated by the Fatburger timing in addition to the reasons above; Jan. 18, 1991 was indeed a Friday, but I believe it to be eliminated most conclusively by Kim’s pregnancy.)

November 30, 1988, though… Nov. 30, ‘88 was a Friday (*EDIT*: actually, it wasn’t; oops! See my follow-up post for an explanation — and why it doesn’t matter!). The day when Cube could grab a Fatburger at 2 a.m. The day earliest in his relationship with Kim — when referring to her as someone he’d been trying to fuck since the twelfth grade would be the most relevant; when getting paged and then dropping her off elsewhere would still make sense; before her accepting his marraige proposal and giving birth to his son would make his speaking flippantly about their sex life like that even more awkward and uncomfortable… 

November 30, 1988 was the REAL date of Ice Cube’s good day.

(P.S. We will conveniently overlook the fact that in ‘88, Cube was still driving an old Jeep — because it might not have been a pimpmobile with hydraulics, but it least it was a drop-top of sorts!)

(P.P.S. I’ve seen another Tumblr tonight which went with Murk Avenue’s beeper assumption, and the ignoring of Cube’s family timeline, but used the fact that according to Wikipedia, “By around 1992-93, MTV aired Yo! MTV Raps only once a week, for two hours, on Fridays after midnight” to also say that it couldn’t have been January 20, 1992, but drew the conclusion that this meant it was Friday, January 18, 1991. However, as outlined above, I highly doubt Kim was paging him for weed, booze, and sex while 8 months pregnant with his son! Besides, Cube wouldn’t have been at Short Dog’s place watching the show between midnight and 2 a.m. before going to Fatburger — that’s when he fucking Kim. No, this was in 1988 when he went to Short Dog’s and watched it in the late afternoon, which also fits with the timeline within the song itself.)

murkavenue:

CLUE 1:
“went to short dogs house,
they was watching Yo MTV
RAPS”
Yo MTV RAPS first aired:
Aug 6th 1988
CLUE 2:
Ice Cubes single “today was a good day” released on:
Feb 23 1993
CLUE 3:
”The Lakers beat the Super
Sonics”
Dates between Yo MTV Raps air date AUGUST 6 1988 and the release…

murkavenue:

CLUE 1:
“went to short dogs house,
they was watching Yo MTV
RAPS”
Yo MTV RAPS first aired:
Aug 6th 1988
CLUE 2:
Ice Cubes single “today was a good day” released on:
Feb 23 1993
CLUE 3:
”The Lakers beat the Super
Sonics”
Dates between Yo MTV Raps air date AUGUST 6 1988 and the release…

Babies come in at #13 and furniture beats out Mothers-in-law at the bottom of the list.

Partiality, in the matter of rescue, to be shown to:

1. Fiancées.
2. Persons toward whom the operator feels a tender sentiment, but has not yet declared himself.
3. Sisters.
4. Stepsisters.
5. Nieces.
6. First cousins.
7. Cripples.
8. Second cousins.
9. Invalids.
10. Young-lady relations by marriage.
11. Third cousins, and young-lady friends of the family.
12. The Unclassified.

I found nopales in northern-frickin-Virginia! I shouldn’t have underestimated the Latin community around here.

Good for this guy for recognizing the moment and not questioning it.  (Hat-tip to http://kottke.org)

I’m fascinated with death, not in the morbid lame goth-y kind of way, but as the ultimate deadline — the finish line in the world’s toughest footrace.  With every adventure I do, I am driven by the idea that I don’t want to lie on my death bed wishing I had done more with my life.  I don’t intend on living fast and dying young (too late, lol!), but rather living 9-19 MPH above the posted speed limit, and dying old but as quickly as possible.

I’ve been home from Tlaxcala, Mexico for about a week and a half now.  A 5-day pit stop in South Beach, Miami was involved as I prepared myself for the return to a post-holiday life back at home and the beginning of my new year.  The spring semester has already started, I’m wondering if it’s time to saddle myself with an auto loan, and I’ve just signed up for my first mud run of the year.  2012 has definitely begun.

So: Tlaxcala.  Doña Estela and Jon’s Mexican Home Cooking was a fantastic experience and one I hope to re-experience at some later point in my life, though if I ever have the time and money required to take this trip again, I may instead opt to visit some new place instead of re-visiting previously tread ground.  When asked about my trip, I find myself resorting to what almost feels like a trite phrase: “It was pretty close to perfect.”  

This cooking school is Estela and Jon’s livelihood and, after I signed up and before I traveled, they were briefly featured on the Cooking Channel’s Chuck’s Week Off.  Despite a good segment on the show, I had to dig deep to find anything related to “Estella’s” appearance (they misspelled her name) and only found her recipe for Mole Poblano — the one we used while I was there.  I don’t know if there has been any other interest from television shows but she’s been featured in magazines before, which is how I originally found out about her school in 2008.  I hope to some day see her plucky personality again grace my television screen.

Breakfast the morning of my departure was different than it had been the previous 6 mornings — Estela, Jon and Maria all joined me.  We had a meal disproportionally delicious when compared to its simplicity.  It was black beans on toast with cheese, bacon and pico de gallo.  Don’t let the pedestrian name fool you.  The magic was in the bolillos receta (Mexican bread), queso blanco (fresh, melty cheese.. not cheesefood ), and the freshness of the frijoles negros and pico de gallo.  This dish was not on the agenda of the class but is nonetheless noteworthy for… well… everything.  Flavor, texture, filling-ness, creaminess.  This is the breakfast I will want the morning of my execution if ever I find myself on death row.

The taxista labor strike mentioned in my last post was still in force, so Estela and Jon drove me to the Puebla bus station and paid my way to Mexico City airport.  We said our goodbyes and I was left alone in the bustling bus terminal with a few pesos in my pocket to last me until the airport.  Even though I wasn’t hungry, I felt compelled to try bus station food.  My stomach had lasted through many forays into Mexican vendor-supplied street foods with no intestinal distress resulting.  Alone in a foreign transit hub with no backup plan, would it survive a bus station burrito?

Yes it would.  

The Estrella Roja express bus from Puebla to Benito Juárez International Airport came with a free packed lunch, a drink, a movie, power outlets, and WiFi.  It was also cleaner than any bus I’ve ever taken from DC to New York and was almost empty.  Over the next two hours, I wrote out a many-paragraph diatribe on life and travel that I had intended on posting to this blog when I had gotten to Miami but opted not to, favoring some heavy editing first.  

This Saturday I’m hosting my first Pueblan Dinner in my home with a small group of close friends.  I will be doing this several more times over the coming months until most of my friends have had a chance to come in and try out what I’ve learned (or didn’t learn).  

As I type, Frijoles Negros are simmering on my stovetop — a bit too salty, but the flavor I remember from Tlaxcala is definitely there.  Also, my brand new pressure cooker, of which Estela made extensive use, arrived in the mail today.  I’ve already washed it and am mulling over my choices for its inaugural meal.  

For Saturday’s dinner, I took what I considered the safe route for my first real meal: Pipian Verde con Bistec en Relleno, Crema de Chile Poblano, Arroz Rojo, and Frijoles Negros.

I hope my posts about Mexican Home Cooking were useful or at least enjoyable to read.  Chronicling my experiences was not as painful as I had expected and I hope to write in this tumblr blog a little more often with other adventures.  I’ve already signed up for my second Warrior Dash this May and will be training in anticipation for my second Tough Mudder this September.  Because… you know.  I apparently didn’t learn the first time around.

I’ve been fumbling around blindly with this tumblr thing for a while now and was completely oblivious to the inability to leave comments until today.  Some quick reading led me to an easy solution.  Comments are now enabled.

I normally consider a stereotype to be an exaggerated characterization of a series of traits about something, sometimes offensive, sometimes humorous. Many of both come to mind regarding Mexico but as I sit here admiring the stone and tile-worked patio in the backyard of Estela and Jon’s hacienda, I can’t help but think fondly of a stereotype I once considered a misconception propagated by overly-wishful Americans. I had my lunch on this terrace a little over an hour ago to the soundtrack of distant church bells and chirping birds, the feeling of a gentle breeze and a warm sun, the taste of mole poblano and a margarita, and my only companions, four dogs lying in the sun and my own thoughts. This stereotype exists and I am in the middle of it.

Jon and Estela left a couple hours ago, taking my two companions to Puebla to catch a bus back to Ciudad de Mexico airport – a spontaneous labor strike by taxi drivers canceled their chauffeured ride. Today was the end of the fifth and final day of cooking, culminating in the presentation of diplomas, bound booklets of “Salas Silva Recipes,” and heartfelt hugs all around. What follows are the dishes prepared from the final two days.

Day 4 

Sopa de Tortilla (Tortilla Soup)

One of my favorites, if not THE favorite soup, Sopa de Tortilla was another grand success in what I consider to be an entire soup discipline. Owing to one too many bad pizzas, I’ve never been a mushroom kind of guy. I generally avoid them like the plague and never considered using them regularly in my cooking. However, this soup used a cup and a half of ceta (oyster) mushrooms and they provided an excellent density and texture similar to a nice glob of soft cheese. I’m definitely making this one again.

Pollo en Jocoque (Chicken in Yogurt)

Rich and lactose-y, this dish requires a couple cups of a yogurt-like substance called jocoque. Described as similar to “creme fraiche” (hat-tip to South Park), it has the texture of Philadelphia cream cheese and the sourness of sour cream. The dish was well balanced in all its flavors – citrus from an orange and a mandarin and a little sour from the jocoque – and I very much enjoyed eating it, but it was not my favorite combination from the week.

Arroz Blanco (White Rice)
Simple. Easy. Flavorful. The magic ingredients here were dill and chicken stock.

Mancha Mantel (with pork, lamb or chicken)

Like Pollo en Jocoque, this dish was well balanced and pulled its disparate flavors together nicely, but owing solely to my palette and not the recipe, it also wasn’t my favorite dish. Elements at play here are sweet fruits (pear, plantain, pineapple, apple), mild chiles (anchos), and good old fashioned meat (chicken). The rich brown sauce is adobo and it was topped with sliced plantains.

Day 5 

Sopa de Lentil (Lentil Soup)

If I’m counting right, this makes 5 straight days with homemade soup. I’m not sure what was so daunting about the idea of making soup, to me, but these dishes were extraordinarily delicious and extraordinarily simple. Something I had never considered doing with soup of any sort was pouring in a whole egg about five minutes before serving, poaching it in the lentil soup. Also unique to this recipe was the addition of plantains, making this the creamiest, sweetest bowl of lentils I’ve ever had.

Suspiros de Novia (Sighs of the Bride)

This dish of fritter-like sweets came about in the colonial era of Mexico. When away on travel, Spanish husbands would place their brides in the care of a priest in a monastery or church until they returned. When making suspiros, dollops of batter are poured, one-by-one, into the hot oil of a pan. With cooking the main, if not the only diversion of daily life, the brides were observed to have sighed deeply with each tablespoon as thoughts of their far away husbands occupied their heads.

Arroz con Perejil (Rice with Parsley)
Served next to the Mole Poblano, this Arroz con Perejil was mostly used as the vehicle to soak up more mole sauce from my dish.

Mole Poblano

One of two Holy Grails of this trip, mole has always been a concoction frequently accompanied by wonderment at its complication. After finally learning to make this delicious sauce, I can best describe these thoughts as warranted, but certainly not insurmountable hesitations. There were many, many ingredients in the formulation for Mole Poblano, but the devil was in the step-by-step process, not the ingredients. The process is constant and dynamic, requiring a more than passing familiarity with the whole recipe. Stirring is constant and burning any of the ingredients is easy to do, giving the whole substance a bitter taste. I normally cook with the recipe in front of me, rarely reading the whole thing before beginning. I may actually have to study this recipe if I want to make it again. And I will.

Tamales

The other Holy Grail! The way making tamales was always explained to me was that it involved a lot of time and effort, which is why most contemporary Mexican households buy their tamales in batches from stores that make them in large quantities. In El Paso, any store’s tamales worth a damn are usually gone by mid-day. When on vacation in El Paso, waking up is not high on my list of priorities and I rarely get there in time.

I think the most difficult part of this is getting the masa mixture right. Some places have pre-packaged masa but, according to Estela, there are three kinds: north, central and south. Each has slightly different properties and the authentic Pueblan way requires the central mixture. Making tamales is very much a community event. The whole family or group has a hand in stuffing the corn husks with the various salsas and mixtures. Once you get the folding and rolling technique right, this is the easy and satisfying part as you see the soup pot slowly becoming full of the delicious kinds of tamales.

So that’s it for all the food.  Tomorrow (today), I head to the airport and make my way to my former home of Miami, Florida where I will drink unholy amounts of cafe cubano, enjoy the beach and cook absolutely nothing.  

From the outskirts of Tlaxcala, I sit contentedly next to a fire writing with festive, circus-like oompah music in the distance and a belly full of Tlaxcalan street food, including huitlacoche quesadillas, sweet gorditas, and a modest serving of pulque to wash it all down. This post will be covering dishes prepared by my culinary cohorts and I over the last two days.

When investigating where in Mexico I could find a comprehensive experience in the kitchen, Mexican Home Cooking was the course that hit the most targets I had set for what I wanted. The only concern I had regarding the curriculum was that we were only spending 2 - 2.5 hours a day cooking. How many dishes can I possibly learn in such a short period of time? Clearly, my concerns were misplaced.

Yesterday, we made two dishes I thought I would be lucky to get to cook in the same week: Chiles Rellenos (stuffed chiles) and Chiles en Nogada (chiles in walnut sauce). The day started off with a hearty breakfast of tamales and a speciality bread called Roscsas del Reyes — a sweet, dessert bread with candied fruits prepared on El Dia de los Reyes, which happened to be yesterday, January 6th. Even today, the 7th, the vendors on the streets are still selling the bread and I saw no shortage of customers.

Dishes prepared on Friday the 6th:

Crema de Flor de Calbacitas (Cream of Squash Blossom Soup)

- A second day cooking with flower blossoms. I think it is a universally agreed upon observation that the origins of a cuisine are frequently owed to the lowest classes finding tasty and creative ways to survive off the scraps of the upper classes; either that or the ingredients most available. I believe both may be the case with squash blossoms. Harvesting the blossoms from a squash flower is remarkably easy to do and yields a flavor very complimentary to a cream or milk-based liquid. I cannot recall ever seeing squash blossoms for sale in the United States, but I may have to dig a little when I return.

Pipian Verde con Bistec en Relleno (Stuffed Beef Rolls in Pipian Verde Sauce)

- Preparing this dish was like making tiny burritos, only the tortillas were thin slices of beef. Bacon, ham, string beans and sliced carrots were placed on top of a small sheet of meat, which was then rolled together and held fast with a well-placed toothpick. The beef rolls were then simmered in the richly green pipian verde sauce, which was the blending of many ingredients including tomatillos, epazote, onions, radish leaves, pumpkin and sesame seeds, chicken stock and every single serrano chile that I was allowed to stuff in the blender. Orale!

Salsa de Jitomate Basica (Basic Tomato Sauce)
- Now, I’m no professional chef — I’m a guy who loves food and can follow instructions well. I don’t have much in the way of a repertoire of foods I can just conjure up and use over and over again, but I’m guessing anyone who likes to cook fresh, delicious foods probably has a basic tomato sauce recipe they can pull out at a moment’s notice. I never have, but now I do and it includes cinnamon, cloves and jalepeno chiles.

Chiles en Nogada (Battered Chiles in Walnut Sauce)

- What I also now have is the prettiest goddamned stuffed chile I’ve ever seen, whose recipe contains a meat stuffing best described as savory with a sweet backbone, re-usable in other dishes. Chiles in Nogada is very distinct in appearance due to it’s fried golden batter, creamy walnut sauce and bright red pomegranate seed topping. I saw Estela on the Food Channel’s Chuck’s Week Off, and the image of this dish was the one that accompanied me on my way to Tlaxcala.

Chiles Rellenos (Stuffed Chiles)

- One of my favorite childhood dishes, Chiles Rellenos are two of my favorite foods, fried: chiles and cheese. Simple and irresistible. I have had bad rellenos before, and I believe the key was in the batter. Both the Chiles in Nogada and Chiles Rellenos were dredged in the same concoction of whipped egg whites and yolks whereas I believe the bad rellenos had likely been dumped in the same fryer used for french fries.

Dishes prepared on Saturday the 7th:

Crema de Chile Poblano (Cream of Poblano Chile Soup)

- I am going to have to resolve to spend a week making enough soups to be able to just whip them up in a flash. These have been some of the simplest dishes to make that I’d like to explore how to minimize canned soups. This may be a candidate for the first thing I re-make when I return home, as I have a few dozen frozen Hatch chiles in my freezer.

Frijoles Negros (Black Beans)

- Hearty, reliable, delicious. Such a simple dish, I’m almost ashamed to have had to come all the way to Mexico to learn it.

Panuchos (Bean-filled Masa Cakes)

- And here is the dish that taught me out to correctly make homemade tortillas. My error was not in the composition of the dough, but likely in the temperature of the surface on which it is cooked. Between these little cakes and the huitlacoche quesadilla I had in the market, there is a tight race here for dish of the day.

Pipian Rojo with Meat

- At this point, I’m kind of amazed at how clueless I was about the amount of cloves, cinnamon and sesame seeds that are used in Pueblan cooking. Sure, I grew up with more Tex-Mex and northern Mexico cooking rather than Puebla or central Mexico, but I’ve *heard* of a lot of these dishes before. Pipian Rojo with meat is more pork simmered in a sauce made of cinnamon, cloves, cumin, anchos and guajillo chiles.

Guacamole
- There’s nothing surprising here except if you haven’t made it before, you’ll discover it’s rather simple. The only change in this recipe was the use of tomatillos instead of lime for the acidic element. There was absolutely no browning or discoloration by the time I was depositing heavy dollops of it on my panuchos.

After class on Friday, Marcela, her mother, Christina, and I took a taxi into Puebla — about 45 to 60 minutes away depending on traffic. There, we walked up and down streets, across plazas, and in and out of churches in our efforts to get to know the area. The city was a combination of ancient, flashy, dirty and holy. We shopped in the mercados, haggled a little with the vendors and snacked on foods sweet, salty, spicy or some combination thereof.

We did much the same today (Saturday) afternoon, in Tlaxcala, except there was a live band playing traditional music in a plaza to which many people were dancing the afternoon away — not me, of course. The name escapes me, but I also had a big cup of some sweet tea-like drink which also had lime juice and chile powder in it. It was delicious and I will move heaven and earth to find its recipe. Also, huitlacoche. An ingredient for which I harbored an unreasonable dislike based solely on its origins. In a quesadilla it is simply… well.. I think it’s ruined all other quesadillas for me. Earthy, substantial and hearty are the best words I can think of to describe it right now, and at 1 o’clock in the morning, I kind of want one. Now.

Frequently, I think to myself of how much parts of the cities and towns of Mexico remind me of Kurdish Northern Iraq. I hesitate to say this as those who have never been may immediately think of this comparison as pejorative, but though I would like to dispel the image of all of Iraq as a blistering war zone, I’m not going to get in to a drawn out defense of my comparison. I’ll just say that Irbil, Iraq is a beautiful and ancient city with a climate similar to parts of Mexico.

Construction materials have a similar base of sand, concrete or stone and many houses are only partially built with re-bar jutting upwards, waiting for the home owners to find that next flush of money that will finance the next room. The markets also have a similar sense of ordered chaos with the vendors splayed out across the establishment — on the floor, in tented booths or behind displays. In both Iraq and Mexico, the feeling that you have been cheated on a price is diametrically opposite to the amount of effort you put in to finding or haggling a deal. i.e. If you want a deal and you didn’t try to find one, well then you might feel cheated.

This concludes a very substantial update of the last two days here in Tlaxcala. The festive oompah music in the distance has morphed into some sort of crappy techno and it shows no signs of stopping.  Tomorrow night, Estela and Jon have arranged for live music here in the hacienda — of the Mariachi variety, I believe. That, I can definitely get into.

Characters in this adventure include Estela Salas Silva, the proprietor of this course and a small firebrand who has just as much to teach about Mexican language and culture as she does Pueblan cuisine; her husband Jon whose grasp of Spanish is far superior to mine, albeit with an unabashed gringo accent; and Maria, the… I don’t know what to call her…  the help?  Maria is, at the same time, a housekeeper, a waitress, a maid and a cook — performing each job with skill, precision y con gusto.  Other than myself, the students are Marcela, a native Mexican living with her English husband in England, and her mother whose name escapes me at the time of this writing, who lives in Monterey.  Marcela and her mother are perfect co-students as Marcela was a Spanish teacher and has no qualms helping you with your Spanish if asked.  Her mother’s grasp of English is so that I will often hear the same message in both languages, further aiding me in my understanding.

La comida!  Madre de dios, la comida!  In about three hours we cooked our lunch and our dinner and they were nothing short of la comida del reyes.  The menu was as follows.

Arroz con Chile Poblano (Rice with Chile Poblano)

- The preparation of this dish was preceded by the teaching of a skill I had always wanted but never had the occasion to learn until now: the correct preparation and roasting of chiles.  Also taught were the names and uses for the chiles most common to central Mexico including poblanos, anchos, mulatos and chipotles, to name a few.  This is good news for my freezer as it is currently stocked with three or four bags of frozen Hatch New Mexico green chile peppers which will now be put to appropriate, and delicious use.

Sopa de Hongo (Mushroom Soup) y Ensalada de Nopalitos (Nopal Salad)
- These dishes included the use of nopales, which are the broad, flat parts of the prickley pear cactus.  I have had nopales before, but I had never prepared them from their natural, spiney state.  Today, I have been propelled above the cactus on the food chain (apparently my subconscious thinks cactii are carnivores).  I only became aware of the fact that we were at least equals when I suddenly found myself looking at wild prickly pear in much the same way I would a chicken or cow — something that occupies my stomach. 

Pato Almendrado (Almond Duck)

- The preparation of the duck (cleaning, butchering) was handled beforehand by Estela, but the sauce was definitely the students.  This was the first non-vegetarian, non-gluten free dish prepared and can be easily made gluten free by replacing the roll of french bread blended into the sauce with something more appropriate.  The sauce was exceptional… I mean c’mon.  Cinnamon, cloves, almonds and chiles blended together?  That sounds like some sort of culinary Super-Voltron!

Salsa de Chipotles Quemado Con Puerco (Pork Ribs in Burnt Chipotle Sauce)

- The recipe is in the title.  This was a hearty, smokey dish that was as fun to make as it was to eat.  Who knew frying chipotles in olive oil could be so viscerally satisfying?  Pro-tip: it’s not ready until it crunches.  Pork ribs and chipotle should be as common a pairing as peanut butter and jelly, real talk.

The hacienda in which Estela and Jon live is nothing short of the sort of place to which I’ve always imagined myself retiring.  Warped wooden french doors connect almost every room in the house to either the back or front yards.  In any other climate, their poor defense against the wind would be disconcerting, yet in the beginning of January and this close to the equator, it’s sort of quaint.  It is quaint.  This is the type of region where all you need to warm an entire room is a roaring fire (beside which I type this sit in a rocking chair typing this post), or to cool it off, merely open one or more of the numerous windows or doors.  I cannot speak to the pest control as most vermin are likely in hibernation.

The grounds are well-kept with flowers, fruit trees, cacti and herbs growing throughout.  When I declared his home the very picture of my eventual retirement, Jon warned that his semi-retirement involves a lot of maintenance and upkeep of its picturesqeness.  Noted.

Every day around 6:10, the neighbors herd cows and goats down the dirt road in front of the hacienda, presumably home for the evening.  Once the sun goes down, you can hear tiny pops and small explosions of fireworks in the surrounding areas.  Tomorrow is El Dia de los Reyes, which I’m told is the traditional day rural Mexicans open their Christmas gifts — the day the three wisemen brought frankincense, gold and myr to the nativity.  I cannot say if the fireworks will remain when there is nothing to celebrate, but I know they are close enough to have elicited a head count when I was in Iraq.  Here’s to not having PTSD!

I am lucky enough to share the class with two native Spanish speakers.  I say lucky with purpose because I am, at last, getting the language immersion I wanted after my three years of Spanish in college.  Since my proficiency is stronger than the mother’s English, the class has largely been taught in Spanish and, between what I learned in college and what I learned through osmosis growing up, I have been able to comprehend two-thirds to four-fifths of what is said in the class.  The rest is translated into English when I have a blank look on my face or I ask.

Since I cannot seem to get the Internet to work on my laptop, these posts will be pre-written and, hopefully, posted only one day after the activites described above.  Tomorrow afternoon (today?), I will be exploring downtown Tlaxcala with my peers, once again pretending I am Anthony Bourdain. 

Buen provecho!