I have not stopped eating since I got home Wednesday night. And I don't mean crappy junk food snacking. I have been up to some serious gourmet gastronomic consumption. Such are the glorious perks of coming from a family in the food business. (And yet how did I still end up a cooking dud? Eh, I digress.)
So far, I have been devouring my mom's hand-fried carnitas tacos with tomatillo sauce, platano frito con crema, pupusas with the requisite pickled vegetables, fried yuca with jalapeno sauce made from scratch, tortilla soup with the freshest fixings, pan con frijol, grilled carne asada tri-tip, chismol, pina y mango, espresso with condensed milk...oh yeah, and I paused for one small Thanksgiving luncheon of typical white American food (plus white rice, of which I naturally did not partake). You can imagine the lackluster response put forth by my tastebuds to the latter meal.
Why in the world would God pretend to make me Asian? And then stick me in the United States? Meh.
Really now, I'm too dark and chub to be true Chinese, mathematics have always eluded me to the most embarrassing degree, I'm clearly not going to be a doctor or engineer, and my Chinese is crap compared to my Spanish (okay, okay, my Chinese is crap, bar none). I have never set foot in Asia, I don't glow when I drink, I have eyelid creases and a nose bridge, and I'm even simultaneously writing a paper on guerrilla groups in Colombia and Peru right now (30 pages of papers due? Bring on the blogs, baby!). My family also consists of the strangest mix of culture ever.
Wahhhh. Latin America, OPEN SESAME.
Porfa. Porque você é onde quero estar...
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1 comment:
I'm beating you blogging. That's pretty sad. Update this ish.
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