Recipes & Reflections on Latino Food & Culture
Isn't it often the case that the best restaurants can be found in the most unassuming places? Down a dusty country road in the middle of nowhere. Just off the exit of an interstate. And in the case of Rockville, Maryland's La Limeña, toward the back of a suburban strip mall. … [Read more...]
Last week, Mexico celebrated its 201st year of independence. In San Miguel de Allende, the conspirators Ignacio Allende and the Aldama brothers, hasta el copete (fed up) with the abuses of the Spanish colonial government, organized a revolt. On September 16, 1810, co-conspirator Father Hidalgo, a parish priest in nearby Dolores Hidalgos rang out the rallying cry (el grito), signaling the start of the bloody battle that would rage more than 10 years. When the war ended, Mexico emerged tattered and torn. There was a staggering national identity problem in a country of criollos (creoles), peninsulares (native-born Spaniards), mestizos (mixed race) and indigenous people. The stories of my ancestors who lived through those years are forever lost in time, though I can't help but imagine what the Mexico of those ten years must have been like. The complex society that emerged--with its … [Read more...]
This morning, Dos Gildas traveled off the beaten path in search of a bakery that a colleague from the Mexican Embassy recently recommended: La Flor de Puebla. So, with a credible endorsement and my iPhone mapping the way, we headed across town, getting lost only once. (Too much talking, not enough looking at my phone.) We found the turn-off onto Edmonston Road and drove about a half mile up the hill. In the middle of a residential neighborhood—which included two white, clapboard houses sporting large, Mexican flags—was a Mexican food mecca. … [Read more...]
On a recent January day, I suggested to my friend, Veronica, that we settle for a sushi lunch. “Why do you want cold food on such a cold day?” Veronica vexed. “They’ve got sooouup,” I sang, practicing the art of persuasion. Veronica acquiesced and we trekked west by southwest to Farragut Square, en route to a Japanese joint a few blocks from the White House. But then, as we crossed K Street, something caught my eye: the TaKorean food truck. Maybe it was the allure of azure on wheels against a grey cityscape or the inference brought by the long line of sure-to-be lawyers waiting to order, but sushi was suddenly dead to me. Now, Vero is a patient friend and my opposite in this and other ways. For example, she is—and I quote—“anti-funky fusion” (though I suspect this only applies to food) and I am a lover of many things funky and fused (e.g. the … [Read more...]
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