Time + Distance = obnoxious math word problems and no mucho mas. Leaving, moving, mas o menos, on Aprtil foo’s day yo habloed hasta yo y tu comiendo tambien. La familia loaded up the covered wagon (Honda Pilot) and began our great march South to the casa Nuevo en Florida. The psychological underpinnings of this […]Read More Adios Chicago y IFLAG y Mi Sendero del Triste Corazons
Admit it. Jaws best scene comes when a great white’s guts bloody contents slosh onto the dock. We all want to see a limb or two but instead get better: car license plates, a lava lamp, and a bunch of junk that suggests this great white invented the South Beach diet, along with the Hollywood […]Read More Summer Blockbusters, Artery Blockers and the Art of Turning 50
When not blogging on AzChiMex comida and literally juggling dos los ninos withinin spare 60 second blasts I’m slightly consumed with thinking about the brain. Not ceso, gracias very mucho, rather the electric, dappled jello-mold bobbing blissfully – hopefully – between my ears. This stems from the right side (or is it left?) of my […]Read More How Chicago’s Love of The Terror That Be Tavern Tamales Can Best Be Explained As Nothing More Than A Gianormous Case Of Cognitive Dissonance
it must be fishy. Verdad? And if it’s a fish cake, should it be cakey? Served on a hamburger bun, bunny? Yet we’ve been told bunny is supposed to taste chickeny, just like her cold-blooded anicmal friends froggy, alligatory and rattlesnakey? And if this all sounds mildly insaney that’s because waking hours ’round here pass interpreting the […]Read More If it looks like fish, smells like fish, and tastes like fish…
Q 1: wouldn’t it be something if in our charts and stats mad mad mad mad World Cup world some mad mad mad mad statistician concocted a formula for measuring the statistical significance of match sweat? A 1: No, you are right, that would be gross and has no place on a food blog. Q […]Read More Top Chicago Taco #6: El Piojo Pollo asado con faux-mole y sweat
You may know him as the tortilla/diaper model, having been featured on IFLAG last June. No need to name names. Protect him from the NSA and future stalkers and/or bullies. Besides, he only really answers to dog barks, wolf howls and food. I mention the little critter here because our canine conversations inspired me to […]Read More You Will Know Us By The Trail of Blue-haired Cross-dressers
Mas tarde with los bloggings I’ve become so. Realized yesterday I posted Memorial Day munch dos semanas late. If only it were like my Mexican co-workers claim “You’re more Mexican than we are” and I been getting a serious manana on. (Though I heed to the call of the caguama often and am forever picking […]Read More When tortilla – loosely translated – means serape.