Chorizo Almendrado
As a trained lifetime recreational eater as opposed to a refueler (you know the type), I like to eat, drink, record recipes for food I enjoy, and poke fun at food pretension.
A chorizo is a fat spicy Mexican pork sausage. There are many variations to the spicing mix. Most feature a lot of paprika.
When we were living in Ciudad de Guanajuato, Alice taught English to school teachers in the nearby city of Silao. During that time, we had an opportunity to get to know that beautiful city. It is about the same size as Guanajuato, around 150,000 people, but there are some major differences.
Today
No time left to borrowNo time to delayNo time left for sorrowRegrets, or rainy daysNo time for cryingNo time to be blueNo time to waste the dreams we dreamed
Time is today
Time is today
Street Art I
In Mexico there is a great tradition of Institutional Public Art heroic bronzes, massive bas relief works, large scale frescoes and many other “permanent” art forms.
There is also a deep vein of anarchical art, more ephemeral in nature—chalk or flowers on the sidewalks, paper maché, cheap house paint, collage and glue. Most is only one good rain away from oblivion. This art form is expressive and shuns the idea of “precious art.” Often political making social comment or celebrating Mexico’s sense of libertarian personal freedom. This is a peek at the art form, Viroflay Street Art.
A Dream of Moon and Salt Water
I dream of the full moon in November
Sunset and moonrise coincide
The surging tide ignores its limits
I seek the extreme point of beach left exposed
A careful look for that place where fish will surely be
I cast my line far out into the surf
Then wait
Deep Breath
The lobster exposed itself darting backwards across a twenty-foot open sandy area, then ducked into a ten-inch wide hole in the reef. The water wasn’t deep, maybe ten or twelve feet—yet well over my head. I took a breath through my snorkel, dove beneath clear Caribbean waters and kicked hard, hurrying after the lobster. Arriving at the lobster’s hiding spot, I hastily plunged my stick into the small cave. My attention was distracted from the lobster as I saw an arm appear from nowhere, reach out from one side of the opening, and wrap around my stick, then another. Suddenly, I had a clear view of an octopus or part of one—suction cups, rapidly changing colors, a hint of an eye.
Goat
A story from my father.
Wimpy and Majette were improbable names for the two twelve-year-old boys. Wimpy was Stanley’s nickname. His buddies called him Wimpy because he was so crazy about hamburgers—just like the fat comic character, J. Wellington Wimpy, then appearing in the popular comic strip Popeye. Majette was Wimpy’s cousin and in the county where they lived, his name was not an unusual last name. Somehow, as often happened in their close rural northeastern North Carolina farm community, Majette’s last name had migrated to forename.
I am seduced by seashells
I walk along a beach spread with seashells
Long streaks parallel to the surf line
The display surprises me
There are punctuations in depressions holding large masses of shells like trays of jewels
