My Dirty Little Secret...

I always hoped when people got to know me they would think I was a very culturally sensitive, "international" kind of guy. You know, the kind of guy who knows which fork to use, who has the manners of a diplomat, who blends no matter where he goes, whose charm is legendary.

As with most things, intention and reality are entirely different. I'm really not that guy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the uncouth redneck I was in my youth. I actually feel at ease in most settings. I rarely pull the kind of faux-paus that I was legendary for before I got married. Still, I have pretty much accepted that I will never be the refined gentleman I would like to be.

I still try to learn about culture as much as possible, especially Hispanic culture. One part of Hispanic culture that I have tried to excel at is learning about food. I know a lot about Mexican food in particular. I make a pretty good frijoles negros con chorizo from scratch(refried black beans with sausage). I still cannot make a Chili Relleno to save my life. I have tried every kind of food I can possibly find in the US. I've read books, hung around Hispanic supermarkets, schmoozed with short order cooks at taquerias, anything to understand food. I've tried all kinds of snacks, desserts, soft-drinks, anything different.

I really appreciate a good taco. I'm not talking some gringofied Taco Bell taco, I'm talking Carne Asada, onions and cilantro, lime, crumbly goat cheese, and sweet crema fresca. Add to that a nice, hot red or green salsa and wash it down with a Guava flavored Jarritos soda and we are talking a fine meal, the only thing better would be to complete it with some flan and strong coffee with cream and sugar.

I said all of that, to make this shocking confession. When I make tacos at home, I generally like to top them with cold Del Monte ketchup...


I know that's pretty sad, and hardly haute cuisine, but it still tastes good. I've eaten them this way since I was a little kid. I'm not going to change now. Now my lack of fine taste actually goes farther than just, "it tastes good". When I put ketchup on my tacos, it tastes like home. It tastes like I'm back in Bend,Oregon at 405 NW Federal street, having tacos with my Mom, Dad and sisters. It reminds me of when we would go to my Aunt Marilyn's house every New Year's day and have tacos and enchiladas with the whole family. It reminds me of the other holidays when my Mom would make her famous enchilada pie and we would all put sour cream on it, and eat it with saltine crackers, a green salad and wash it down with Sun Tea.

Food is not just part of culture. The sights, smells and tastes of food remind us of who we are. Food is history and food is family.

Juanito