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A brief history of tuna taco time

26 Mar

Canned Tuna fish: love or hate her she’s here to stay. Delicioso dinosaur: aqui ahora antes us y will be despues. And like the very air we share, tunafish has touched all of our tongues if not at least our nostrils – whether we asked for it or no – as this white and gray matter Del mar has shapeshifted to round out dishes as diverse as a dilettante Italian white bean bruschetta topper or a down and dirty truck stop tuna fish salad wedge.
Serving as many culinary roles as Mc Donald’s sells hamburgers; a veritable Zelig de la lengua – like the Happy Meals of our youths and the custom Starbux beverage of today’s contemporary our lifestyle – this grave y feo pescado, like any web browser worth its gigabytes in NSA spyware serves as a history menu listing of our life and times. 
And sooooooo heeeeeeereeeee’s mine:
A Brief Personal History of Tuna Time, if you will and I don’t mind if I do – replayed in the voice of Steven Hawking:
1970 – nature vs nurture vs nutrition
Hola first forkful of the family casserole: 

Tunanoodlepea, made by Mom.. A Miracle Whip based conglomerate, as essential a Az summer staple as air conditioning (with a side of salty plain potato chips, washed down con fruit punch), a source of comfort and controversy (See: Mayonnaise vs Miracle Whip epic rap battles) and anchor throughout the red ‘you are here’ dots mapping my peripatetic vida. 
Significant how? The binding genome for a family of four adopted kids.  
1980s- Soundeconomies

For those of us bypassed by the greed gene, this decade painted in hues of excess, pastel and acid wash – but for the saving graces of late punk rock and early Camper Van Beethoven – well it like totally kind of sucked. The currency plugged into my rebellious jukebox twernt coke nor junk bonds not sushi but canned tuna fish and cloves and nicked Buzzcocks tapes. A cupboard stocked with Bumble Bee meant an empty checking account and a menu rich in creative approaches to cooking with tuna tuna tuna: tuna helper, tuna Mac and cheese, tuna burgers, tuna melts, and gracias grande to you both Sassy Magazine and Sonic Youth for printing a glorious recipe I still punk rock today: tuna tacos.
Economics covered, onto the sonics…
How I survived the 80s has been noted and memorialized on or is it in this agui IFLAG by working getting fired then working again getting fired then rehired again and again by my dear, bittersweet late mother: sole proprietor of the award-winning Tempe,Az hoagie shop Bellyfillers. The lay-offs rained whenever Teen Anst got the better of me and I got snappy with either customers and/or the sole proprietor. 
And yeah, maybe I once got caught answering the phone ‘Bellykillers’ only because the caller just so happened to be the sole proprietor. Never, I repeat never I did I once taint – with or without my taint – even so much as a crumb served to our outstanding clientele. Making the best fucking food you ever tasted was a priori. Forcing you to listen to ‘Orgasm Addict’ (on cassette) at an ear-piercing pitch while you waited for TBFFYET, well, that may have accounted for one or two of the grievances passed on to the sole proprietor who passed on to me mi pink slips.
Diga me though, has not my 1981 pre-Pandora practice of playing pre-recorded music in a dining establishment so loud you couldn’t even hear yourself chew (and I could not hear your complaints about its volume) become the norm? Escuche: try whispering your order at any bourgeois burger joint or Starbucks. See what that gets ya.
One might have easily assayed Pete Townsed-sized hearing loss by stopping in Bellyfillers before the sole proprietor handed over the spatula to her 13 year old son or the award winning tuna fish salad supply needle neared ‘E’. 
Escuche: What the tuna salad recipe lacked in original ingredients – kind of like diction in IFLAG analogies – it made up with an invisible secret ingredient: sound. The tone deaf need not apply as my replacement. Each and every last employee (including my 10-year old sister who holds the silver medal in firings with 4) need pass tuna tuning training. A harmonious blended batch of canned tuna in water, chopped onions, relish and ahem – miracle whip, which we always referred to as mayo – had to achieve a certain pre-slosh splkurth but never so much as a slosh. Turning and folding and mixing each pungent batch with as delicate and deft a hand as that of a soufflé chef you’d think the greater concern be that it risked bruising the pescado all the while holding an ear tuned to each turn: Magic. Put a fork in as soon as it sounds as if recorded could easily pass for the foley effect of a zombies head being bashed in by a cricket wicket.
Nose Scientists press states that 87% of food & beverage taste comes not from brain IM from la lengua but invisibly via Smell. Escuche up ear scientists: what’s your cut? The ear scientists hypothesize music fires up more neurons at once than any other human activity. Then Check this hypothesis out for super size: If you mute the OST at say random sample say McChipolte, upon first bite into a burrito dragged through the jardin a brain freed from Adele’s undulations nourishment neurons will properly light up like a scoreboard, teeetimg to the rest of your gourd how aforeforaged burrito now sounds and tastes like a cilantro and lime perfumed Taco Bell special. (Hold the helping of hate on TB, my being both a fan and stockholder of their superior hot sauces)

The 90s: http://www.tuna.com
We’ll lets just leave what this might mean to your id.

The Aughts: the great recession-proof pescado.
Were it not for gratis elk and food stamps I’d have been reduced in both income and economic stature to have inhaled enough tuna To sport gills. More than Quite a few links down on the food chain did yo slip, noting a notable uptick in Starkist and Bumblebee stock, me. Notable new variations on this veritable steak of the starving masses: nada one.
2010 – present: a tuna melt Medicaid for the millennium.
Student loans and gainful employment were this blog’s roux, where lard is lord, carne king, queso Queen – is it obvious kids books influence? – pork prince, beans boss, eggs some superlative word starting with ‘e’, chile the caca, butter beatific along with all the other loyal servants of the Az-Mex empire gathered to feed mi estomago and fill mi Corazon. My Held Steady upright forages and ruminations ahora along with previously undocumented, at times messy yet never not ecstatic, weekly assignation with double Chicago cheeseburgers of every stripe have been a source of binary joy I made an ass out of u and med twert accessible sin Googling la palabra porn. Tambien, according to my previously private until aqui medical records this la Comida Del Santos spiked my previously held steady cholesterol content. Because I’ve yet to concoct an AzMex plata con oatmeal (oatmeal as to cholesterol as Sherrif Joe Arrapaio is to ‘Mexicans’) brings me back to Tuna
Lo-Cho Nuevo-Mexi-Talian Tuna Tacos
Listo?
Chop ½ cup onion

InaBowl

Open and drain can-o-tuna

InaBowl

Dollop-o-mayo

InaBowl

Soy sauce splash

InaBowl

Salt & Pepper & pinch-o-Mexican oregano

Stir & set aside

InaBowl
Seed, stem & chop defrosted fresh roasted NM green chile approx 4 Big Jims (a small can of hatch will pass)
Pre-heat Oven: 425
Open pack small corn torts (El Milagro en Chicago)

Open Trader Joes tub-o-parmasean/Regiano/or any other dry/sharp Italian queso

Open/drain canned sliced black olives from California.

Layer on tort: tuna chile cheese – heat till bubbly and/or kitchen smells like Chinatown in July.
Cue up ‘Orgasm Addict”
Comer

Not Totally Orignial* El Sangre de Vida Picante Sauce (Kojack var.**)

31 Jan

What makes Mexican food Mexican?

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Mexicans?

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Kojak?

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Where that that it estar, cuz Mexican food is all we eat when we eat out. From Mickey D’s on up the foodie chain. As much as The Food Networks try and present otherwise (oh do I so pray for the premiere of Meso-America’s top chef: ‘Tonight’s ingredient: the human heart.”) the novicest CSI gets that what’s plated before them eating out hecho by Mexciano bro/bra. And if you pensar about it, most your produce and meat and packaged goods pass though brown manos. Ergo mi amigos….

The point estando? My guess is that top five answers to our query might prove to be considerably more short-sighted than the previous paragraph’s pontification proposition.

For the love of Richard Dawson, we aqui @ IFAG posed this question of ‘What makes Mexican food Mexican?’ to the #Joneses.

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‘What makes Mexican food Mexican?’

Survey sez:

  1. Chips & Salsa
  2. Taco Bell
  3. Rick Bayless
  4. Tortillas (pronounced : Tor till uhz)
  5. Margaritas

In all fairness to the googles, survey monkeys and Family Feud who contributed to the findings presented aqui, I’ll agree to disagree. As always yo estoy aqui to inform, confirm and condemn, confuse. Mira, this ain’t no trick question, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no foolin’ around. At the corazon of all listed foods Mexican – except Rick Bayless –  runs a common stream – mi número uno answer-deep, red and vital: blood.

Blood-Drop

Call me a broken record, a scratched CDDDDDDDDDDD, a glitched MP3, a dementia patient a dementia patient, a dementia patient for repeating mi self but this bares (or is it bears? – chingada!) repeating: Sangre es El Santa del comida Mexicana perfecto. El proof esta en the blood pudding.

Y yo estoy here to blog you brothers and sisters I inexplicably avoided opening myself up to risk death by epic coconeria failure – and knife blade – for nigh nearly a half century until only last week when at first try yo long last divined a batch of this sacred, holy, and profane comida Mexicana lifeforce.

Of course I’m a chief rocking a mad metaphor here but you try and travel through Mexico without either A.) Bleeding  or B.) Noticing much of Mexico’s history esta escribir en Sangre (the bloody revolutions, the bloody conquistadors, Los Indios blood sacrifices, Narco blood sacrifices, the bloody bullfights, bloody Christo (of the cross, not Central Park).

Blood-Facts-of-Mexico

You no snap a selfie with any of this? Try leaving Club Med next time.

On the literal tip, para me, que gives comida Mexico its vida, its cojones, its ability to resurrect the sorriest slab o carne, the stalest nacho, make Taco Bell not suck? Sangre aka el sauce picante. Not salsa, gracias very mucho. Yo hablando hot sauce. No fucking cumin, no tomatoes, no cute labels or names or commercials. El deal real.

Sure, you’ve got your Chollas y Valentinas y Buffalos y Pico Paca y others I forget even the closest spelling of, all  welcome additions to comidas tipica and especially hot dogs. (I blog not of the obnoxious “Hotter than _________” and/or “Hot Coal Colonic” variety favored by diners more concerned with the grade of their toilet paper than the quality of their meals aqui.)  But, and this is a big but – but not one en fuego por que picante – once you divine a batch of your own making, starting with this here recipe of course, you too shall uncover several picante milagros of your own making.  En mi cocina por ejemplo, a soggy, salty batch of black beans were transmutated by this blood  into the “Best thing you’ve ever cooked for me” – Mi Esposa. (Sangre + NM red enchilada sauce + dried/cooked frjoes negros con Goya adobo seasoning = Amor).

‘nuff of this blogging…onto the bloody manna

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Not Totally Orignial* El Sangre de Vida Picante Sauce (Kojack var.**)


The Batch Size

1 ¼ cup = avg hot sauce bottle (dump whatever’s been clotting in the fridge, on the counter, etc and wash out bottle and scrape off gluey label; FYI most old hot sauces serve as an excellent de-gluer; viva repurposing!)

The Contents

The dry/smoked whole chile peppers (usually on a rack in produce or ethnic foods in clear plastic bags. I grabbed one of each not knowing what to expect. Siri no hablo espanol so no checking with that fickle gringa puta.)

 

1 – Mulato

2 – Pulla

2 – Japones

1 – Arbol

photo 1

1 clove of minced/smushed garlic

tsp vinegar

pinch of Mexican oregano

No fucking cumin

1 ¼ cups water

salt to taste

The Directions

  1. Seed and stem peppers (I did this under running cold water. sorta works)
  2. Skillet roast at medio heat 5 minutes or so

(you’ll smell when they’re ready – more on this later)

  1. Transfer bowl, cover with water. Cover bowl
  2. Soak peppers for an episode of your favorite cop show (60 minutes)

(*Not totally original. Google served as sous chef. Searched her for: “Mexican” “Taco” “Sauce” “Hot” “Salsa” “No fucking cumin”.)

(**Kojack, Hunter, Rockford, just no fucking CSI)


Kojaktelly

One episode of Kojack later:

  1. Chop up but do not skin or scrape the Molado pepper (the skin serves as a mighty thickener)
  2. Filet open other peppers and scrape out the meat (takes some practice and getting the angle of the blade right. What’s nice about hot sauce is that because you really should not take all the heat these peppers bring en todo, by just “scraping by” what you can measures out perfecto – at least for me it did first time out – more on that lado.)
  3. Toss in food processor*** with garlic, oregano, and pepper water
  4. Process to fluidity (escuchando en mas importante)
  5. Gradually salt to taste; taste vehicles include but are not limited to fingers, spoons, tortilla chips, tortillas heated on pepper griddle or open gas stove flame.

(***Mas Importante Note: use either a spare mini food processer you don’t mind staining or once stained, don’t mind reminding your esposa (regularly) pepper heat does not transfer from the blade stem to your 6 month old’s applesauce, you hope, and even if it does, “the ancient Aztecs applied chili pepper paste to newborns whilst teething provinding both a soothing numbness and arousing a warrior-like spiritedness in the form of a blood-curdling wail [it all comes back to blood, verdad]. Seriously, see for yourself honey, it’s the Internet, right here on my blog = true!”)

photo 2

How flipping milagrolous did this turn out? I polished off a bottle in 5 days**** – with the help of my wife and some creative additions to our regularly scheduled menu.

(****Any keeper of picante sauce will recognize how rare this use in excess. The average shelf-life of hot sauces is 7 years.)

photo 4

..and shot for a miracle, nesting the bottle in our dying Xmas Cactus (llama Frida) to see if we might get her to bloom.

Results: La Milagra, baby….


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What’s my secret? No fucking cumin, no fucking CSI, y mucho mucho mucho Kojack.

 

 

Leftover T-Bird Green Chilenstein Enchiladasserole

6 Dec

Only caught a sense a local radio programme planned to run a piece about some gringo in NM who sent a batch of green chile seeds through the way back machine. His promise: a pre-genetically engineered chile verde = pure, unadulterated, virginal.

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By some reports our contemporary chile verde esta veritable genetic Frankenstein. Y what’s mas, the holocaust has been captured in glorious pixelated color, currently Netflixing. Oh my o my o mi dio.

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Am I alone in both my distaste and distrust the food superstition movement? Though I ‘spose it’s much more of a religious movement, how every time I log on to Netflix or NYTimes.com the documentation on why really only eating only Yeti is safe & ethical anymore grows quicker than AquAdvantage salmon.

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Yoo hoo, a-hem, yo, looky here overevolved Homo sapiens, did it possibly occur to you you are playing right into the hands of food? Look, I don’t want to eat ‘roided out chicken anymore than you do but we gotta keep eating up these mutants into extinction por population control RFN + once them chickens figure out how to wield a bat…we’re goners. chicken_slam_large_2

And C.) Back to the beginning, this supposed ghost of chile past. Pre-Colombian green sounds about as appetizing to me as authentic 1800s hard tack huslted up by a Civil War renactor. You know the breed, the Rebs and Union Oppressors who soak their coat buttons in their own urine, getting down to the last detail just right. Read: scary genetic freaks.

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Call this back to the cave cooking retro, call it vintage, call it pure, I call it playing God with horseshit. Fb Update: The entire universe has evolved several million times over since these supposed ancient seeds were unearthed, re-birthed and planted. Sin Machina de Tiempo: pass, me. Unless of course I can have my helping slathered on a loaf of SPAM. This paring  would be the closest and hopefully equally tastiest approximation of 2015’s T-Giving Leftover Casserole. Mi esposa went organic with the bird I went to the factory with a canned green chile, among other tinned ingredients:

Mira:

photo 1

Leftover T-Bird Green Chilenstein Enchiladasserole

photo 2

COMO:

Mix:

1-2 Cups leftover T-giving turkey: shredded

Above canned ingredients

Sauteed chopped onions and garlic

Salt, pepper, chile powder, oregano

Leftover turkey gravy

Layer in a buttered casserole dish:

Corn tortillas – Above mix – Mexi-cheese

Bake 350 covered in foil 25 min

uncovered 15 min

Under the broiler 5 minutes

Serve topped with sour cream, black olives, leftover canned cranberries

photo 5

Crank. It.

Mexi-Kim Dog Tacos

1 Nov

Fact: the taco truck spawned with the Intuhnet twin sons of different mothers, not the seminal Dan Fogelberg/Tim Weinberg yacth rock LP but both a ‘food truck nation‘ and this here IFLAG blog. Por que all that is true for our survival as a species anymore – until the Intenet rises up and wipes its butt with the last Will Smith standing – lives long and prospers here….wait for it: for eternity. Think Heaven without the streets paved with bling, and in place of gold:  porn.

Okay, how the hell did I end up there?

Intuhnet, sexy succubus of soul & spirit, you marvelously vast wasteland of sin and greed, endless source of ennui and LMAO animated gif, Al Gore’s evil devil child: I rebuke thee!

Back to the mere mortal vituals iPhotoed and inhaled ahora. And so it is with the beaming pride of a rival sibling – as in ‘take this and shove it in your pie hole taco trucks – you may be all way more mister popular and shit but those Korean tacos you sling aren’t fit for dogs as food or with dog filing.’ I’ve sampled Korean tacos far and wide (DC, Az, Chicago) and remained somewhat miffed and gyped. Reminds me of that failed metal/rap wreck: ‘Judgment Night‘. Tacos in the Mexican style and Koren BBQ pretty much make for eating perfection. Mira:

Confession junction: I know full well Korean tacos – which for the sake of hybridization and cultural insensitivity I shall refer to as MexiKim food from here on out – my lesser twin, fell from the womb into the Twitterverse o’ Southern California. Having never eaten MexiKim in the land of its origin, I ‘spose the jury is still hanging out. And hung it shall remain para me. My feelings about visiting Southern California aren’t far from those expressed by acrid poet Philip Larkin when asked ‘Would you ever visit the Orient?’ PL: ‘Only if I can leave the same day.’

So let us leave California to the guy from The X-files,, the poetry to Jon Wayne & my usual rootless blog piffle to the rest of the Intenet until Kingdom Come for the only MexiKim taco that matters, the reason I called y’all to gather aqui ahora:

 

El Mexi-Kim Dog Taco

  photo 1

While I you may begin to wonder – because of the perponderance of Trader Joe’s products featured here – if I am not indeed Trader Joe himself. Alas, no estoy. (Y si, the irony that TJ’s has it’s origins in SoCal is not lost on mi.)

 photo 2

 

  1. Grilled beyond recognition at high heat TJ’s Korean-style Street Sausages
  2. Homemade jalenpeno/brocholili/mayo slaw – mix & add ingredients until slightly sloshy.
  3. Canned cooked hominy, drained
  4. Storemade guacamole and/or avacado slices
  5. Corn tortillas

You could do a lot worse than cueing up this pearl as the grill pre-heats:

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

30 Aug

brain-webTOC

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 recently earned college degree from the mega-U, pre-baristacademic Arizona State University. Filmmaking and psychology were my majors. And because I am a “lifelong learner” who passionately loathes that term, I can’t help but continue to view “films” with a critical eye and perform psychological experiments on my children.

Before you get all Child Protective Servicesy allow me to be the first to inform you that I am joking. (Though El Nino Numero Uno may require a session on Sigmund’s sofa upon discovering here how I once substituted his diapers with tortillas, unless he kills me first, then he will be Oedipus.)

On a similar B-flat, if I could improve one thing about all this electronic communication it would be to replace JK and LOL, LMAO et al with a subtler means of alerting readers when sarcasm, innuendo and humor happens.

Then again, to paraphrase the Martian in Woody Allen’s “Stardust Memories”:

“You want to do blogging about AzChiMex comida a real service? Tell funnier jokes.”

En verdad, the only psychological experiments performed around here are on my own ceso when depressed by lusty AzChiMex food in limited supply.

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Which is how I’ve come to self-diagnose myself and my fellow Chicagoans as suffering from a serious case of comida Mexicana cognitive dissonance.

Por que Cognitive Dissonance?

Cognitive dissonance1-1

Take it away Dr. Festinger:

Hypothesis A – “The existence of dissonance, being psychologically uncomfortable, will motivate the person to try to reduce the dissonance and achieve consonance”

Hypothesis B – “When dissonance is present, in addition to trying to reduce it, the person will actively avoid situations and information which would likely increase the dissonance

Mira: If “dissonance” = Mexicana comida Chicago mediocre then according to hypothesis ‘ A’ the reduction sauce to achieve consonance = “Killer”  ‘Pitbull’ et al Margaritas  and/or beer by the gallon.

KillerMargarita

I tend to lean towards hypothesis B myself and avoid all “situations and information” likely to motivate me to take leave of my family for a Oaxaca Special at Carolina’s in Phoenix, or Oaxaca Mexico for good due to comida dissonance though on a recent Saturday night I abandoned my family (and mind) for a work outing. Gallons of beer, several ill-advised en fuego shots, and pool all contributed to a bout with hypothesis A whence upon I inhaled a hot dozen tavern tamales whose brilliance moved me to sing over the karaokeers a cancione original de amor por tamales de oro de dio y authentica, sabrosa y delgado in my best Ronnie James Dio to the tune of Holy Diver. Hell, I even let los tamales take selfies, so ‘consonated’ fue yo.

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And por que even with restorative pills now availble there’s always a ‘the morning after’. 600full-the-morning-after-poster

This ‘the morning after’ would not be the first time I fished ‘the night before’ food from out of my pockets, and ( con apologias mi ninos ) will likely not be the last. Though this ‘the morning after’ was different:  the first one while (still) married, with two children I honor all husbandly and fatherly responsibilities. So damn skippy I cooked the found food prior to eating it.

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Argue all you want about whether one can objectively judge the quality – y mas importante the authenticity – of any comida typica (obviously were not blogging about The Frontera Grill here – gracias dios) pulled from the lint-lined confines of one’s trouser and/or satin bomber jacket pockets. But, the most sublime uneaten half of Philadelphia Cheesesteak I’ve ever eaten ‘the morning after’ spent ‘the night before’ pressed up against my heart, nestled as it was within the satin sanctum of a beloved nut brown suede car coat.

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Can we put aside for the moment the suggestion that I sleep in my clothes and/or am homeless?

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Back to the matter at hand:

How Chicago’s Love of The Terror That Are Tavern Tamales (and when you think about it, pickled eggs) Can Best Be Explained As Nothing More Than A Gianormous Case Of Cognitive Dissonance.

 Cognitive dissonance1-1

Cognitive dissonantless confession time: I’ve never eaten a microwaved tampon. Nor will I ever, no matter how cossonated I become. For I can’t possibly imagine how one might taste even slightly better than a tavern tamale. Insert appropriate penance for my transgressions here.

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Not sure what worked – and I ate all six masa mistakes – and because even Jaques Lacan couldn’t explain divine intervention and even if he did I wouldn’t even pretend to understand him, Los Dios dropped onto my grocers’ shelf that very same afternoon the following masa milagras:

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I shall refrain from sharing the location of my nearest grocer and these tamales. Though nuking a couple dozen then hauling ’em in an igloo down to my corner cantina might not be the worst kind of intervention. Nah…they’ll keep just fine in my 501s.

Escuche la musica del Killer Pussy para Arizona circa 1980s:

Top Chicago Taco #6: El Piojo Pollo asado con faux-mole y sweat

3 Jul

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 2: What can I blog but deranged contemplations under the influence of binge Fifa viewing and/or the sleep deprivation dementia which accompanies the arrival of a new son? (Hola El Niño dos, welcome to week two on el mundo and El Cupo Del Mundo 2014.)

A 2: Mas mad mad mad mad pensars, at once deeply profound and slightly culturally insensitive, por ejemplo:

1. It is not against Fifa rules to field a rhinoceros aka the The Belgian Lukaku

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2. Now that the White House has made it a personal GOOOAAAALLLL to kick out some 100K Mexican/South/Central American immigrant children, come World Cup 2018 when faced with any opponent south of The Border Wall Team USA's fans will take to chanting 'Give us back our Latinos'

Get it? No? Then bone up on yer NED bike history with this here good book before reading any further:

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3. NED Team Oranje’s Arjen Robben’s pre-match playlist:

Q 3: Doesn’t all this pensando make you hungry? Sweaty?

A 3: No, but eating this brilliant taco honoring the madness of El Tri’s El Rey El Piojo did/will/do:

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Marinade boneless chicken breast overnight in this faux-mole:
1/4 cup olive oil
Tsp/tbsp chipotle powder
Tsp garlic powder
Tequila shot
Lime squeeze
Pinches of cocoa powder y cinnamon y Mexican oregano y allspice
Salt and pepper enough to taste

Grill @ 450 5 minutes per side
Cover w/foil, set aside for 5 minutes

Warm up corn torts on dry, hot skillet.

Top chopped pollo con finely diced raw onions y fresh porch garden to mesa cilantro and tu favorito queso blanco.

Photograph, eat, sweat, scream, repeat.

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Top Chicago Taco Gringo #4: Puerco del Socceroo Samba

23 Jun

What with World Cup 2014 feeding
the beautiful game to everything from 224″ HDTVs w/ sense-a-round sound to mid-century modern mini-Zenith’s w/ makeshift coat hanger rabbit ears the mundo over there’s never been more appro-pro tiempo to hustle up some comida por el futbol mirando. The obvious choices – and FIFA favorites – I leave to the knowing (read: Latin) and besides my namesake NED looks as if they eat Mexicans I choose the abruptly vanquished Socceroos as menu makers. Besides, both la plata y pais are none more sur and though I’ve never been I suspect they make a mean smoked marsupial down under.
Nuff blogged. Should you have leftover pulled pork lying about wash a couple of these down with some oil cans o Fosters:

Taco Gringo #4: Puerco del Socceroo Samba BBQ

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Ingredients:
Corn tort
Pulled pork
Cottage cheese
Avacado
Hot BBQ sauce