Tag Archives: Chi-Mex

Bigger than Jesus the Beatles, and yoga pants: Esteban Trabajars

15 Sep

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At the current rate of Final Cut Pro post-production, by Christmas 2020, the globe shall be subjected to more Steve Jobs cinematic biopics than those of Jesus Christ, The Beatles and Luke Skywalker en todo. This epidemic outbreak of epic celluloid certainly gives this one pause to ponder some deeply mundane ponderables: Is the iPhone our Gutenberg Bible (with upgrades)? Did Steve Jobs die for our Sims?*

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(*You read that right, a cringe-worthy blasphemous pun. So crucify me whydontcha?)

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Does SJ’s getting all messiahy with it not at least begin to explain the daily commute tableau wherein within a stuffed El train all but the homeless – me too – gaze into luminous Apple gadgets with a reverence traditionally reserved for sacred texts, Kim Jong and yoga pants?

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What but an unshakable iFaith sways we users into believing we the meek shall one day inherit an upgrade to auto-spell recognizing Spanglish as both a word and a dialect, accurate weather apps, and the voice of Siri shall be replaced by that of Demi Moore’s tadpole?
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What Would that these miraculous iPhones might trans-substantiate binary data into iGrub to feed the masses.
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Entrada Yo (and/or the Wu)

Communion Green Chile Green Alfredo Linguine Con Pork Chop Chop Chop Chop Ain’t Nuthin to You-Know-What With

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Ingredients con instructions:
1. Roasted NM Green Cream Sauce
Heat up and constantly stir 2 tbsp o butter and flour until brown

Separately warm 2 cups of whole milk

Remove roux from heat, slowly stir in milk by the ladle.

Stir in:
An onion – diced and sautéed
A bulb of oven roasted garlic – smushed
Quart bag of chopped, seeded and skinned rotated NM green chile
A fistful of fresh cilantro – chopped
Mexican oregano to taste
Salt and pepper to taste

Slowly simmer until all ingredients smell like one. Cool. Blend into purée. Return to pot. Stir in 2/3rds of queso.

2. Half-box of fettuccini – al dente
(Google it)

3. A seasoned to ur liking grilled pork chop or two –  chopped

Butter a casserole dish. Mix ingredients but for 1/3 cheese, then glop into casserole dish. Top with 1/3 cheese. At 350 bake covered for 30 minutes or until burbling and smelling as one. Slide under broiler till cheese browns.

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(aqui con huevo)

Mas sagradoso than Esteban Trabajars…

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Mas sabrosa than pantaloons Del yoga…

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El escarbajo optional.

Summer Blockbusters, Artery Blockers and the Art of Turning 50

29 Aug

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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 Summer blockbuster.

Some fishermen bring in a fairly large tiger shark. Hooper knows it’s not the shark they’re after, even though the mayor and the rest of the town are convinced their troubles are over.

Summer simmering down to its wet end here – or perhaps those are curt cobain’s tears falling on the Foo Fighters fest @ Wrigley 2night (Rewind: Pearl Jam’s Friendly Confines gig 2013 rain delay also awash in The God Of Grunge) or sweat maybe staged an unlikely play of thoughts starring Jaws, Junk and El Preferrido canned tamales.

 

The tin can tamales I wolfed down back in July. And I felt a responsibility to my loyal readers and family to wait until the test results came in. Over the span btw tamales and The Foos my biological calendar reminded me yo lived to be Fifty:

 

Up until now, I treated mi vida antigua as a series of pop quizzes. At the half-century mark, true standardized testing begins. The format runs from true or false to multiple choice, essay, a greasy finger slid up your butt, to basic arithmetic.

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Me, I performed a modern mid-century durability self-test of sorts with said tin tamales (ahora the alchemy of the meandering metaphor madness) by first cooking up (Cobain reference) the gelatinous BP grease slick floating atop the tamales y the tamales then shot up the red hot sabrosa greasy mess into my maw igniting hallucinatory visages of a cross section of my wax paper arteries clogged up with lava lamp lard (Jaws).

 

We the help of some large cued cottage cheese: aces.

The Verdad La Mexicana Comida Esta Out There….

1 Aug

So these three youthful Midwesterners are at NYC’s La Guardia airport baggage claim abuzz with anticipatory crackish then/Red Bullish ahora pre-embarking adrenaline rush exclusive to both visitors and residents of Gotham and maximum security prisons.

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What today would have been a text and/or tweet shared among friends we the public actually participated – okay eavesdropped – in their animated public discourse.

And what today would have been a Yelp! search actually turned into a lively debate with real opinions shared from real live experience instead of online strangers.

To the dulcet caterwaul – with occasional thud – of a luggage carousel – this husky body politic weighed in on Chicago vs New York pizza: ‘I can’t wait to try Domino’s. I bet it’s way better here.’ ‘No way, ‘Yes way’ ‘No way’ ‘yes way’ ‘Chicago’ ‘New York’ Chicago New York and on and on and on and maybe text might have been less Valley Girly and distracting so the rest of us could focus on our opinions and obvious superior big city sophisticated taste, grab bags, turn up noses, bolt.

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All but yo en verdad. Mi cargo fue returning con yo from Mexico. While the fuerte opinions blogged aqui suggest otrowise. I am still here to tell you the only reason Taco Bell en Mexico is better albeit more authentic than Taco Bell en Esatdos Unidos por que you get to order en Espanol.

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And even though I’ve been called a snob because I refuse to eat @Chipotle – which is to Mexico as Red Lobster is to the sea – you can’t feed a more Catholic, democratic, open and omnivorous maw than mine. Beyond therapy for my PTAzMexSD, the entire purpose of this here blogging a la Marco Pollo is to document my quest for el Cocina Mexicana ultima outside the friendly confines of mi beloved Sonoran desert. I know it exists, even if I have to make it so in mi own cocineria por ejemplo:

 

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I can’t believe you’re not Midwesternican pollo asado y chile verde y cream of chicken y corn tortillas that taste like dumplings y cheese casserolenchiladas

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The chipotle variation (the chile not the chain)

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North Carolina BBQ pork/Trader JoseNM salsa verde/avocado/refried frijoles/Trader Jose flour tort/burro

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Elotes/frijoles/pollo asado tacos con cilantro y radishes from our urban parking garage rooftop garden

Or when I have to burn $5 on some breakfast burrito from Pret-a-Porte labeled ‘Southwestern’ because maybe that’s what Mexican food is like in France?

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Egg Soufflé (Cage free) Refried Black Bean Salsa Red Peppers Cheddar Red Onions Tortilla Wrap

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*To the credit of the Midwesterners who I had no intention of having personify the acronym IOWA (idiots out wandering aimlessly) the very same week I took again to wandering yet again NYC’s sts/aves rather aimlessly, confident enough in my Espanol lengua to order for lunch – much to the delight of the entire diner – a Cubana Torta’ (trans: Cuban Prostitue) and also overheard the following exchange along the way:

Scene: 8th Ave, Times Square, NYC before the greasy window of a Chinese take-out joint tastefully appointed with garlands of Peking Duck.

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Cast: Two young men with Long Island accents sporting Yankees caps – backwards….of, course – studying the menu:

 

‘Peking Duck?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How the fuck they know that duck’s

from Peking?’
And it probably tasted just as good as Long Island duck in Chinatown Chicago.

The Effervescent Influence of Bob’s Burgers, Frozen Burritios y yo.

24 Jun

 

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The esposa y yo spend far too mucho tiempo @ Bob’s Burgers. Because of my latent tendency to distrust anything popular (breathing, eating and breeding practice notwithstanding as well as the use of the word ‘notwithstanding’ and Shakespeare and sure, why not, music, diapers, 501s, reading, erotica, writing and lists and run-on sentences; the parenthetical) BB only recently topped our que. Lucky us, cartoons being cartoons, nothing on the show will age but the cultural references. The Happy Everlasting Animated Video Eternal of Netflix.

Netflix labels Bob’s as ‘cult TV’ which I take to suggest that what it lacks in mass appeal it makes up in mass suicides. I open ahora on Bob’s por que our bingeing is due in no small part thanks to Bob’s charms, hearty hars, parent/child empathy, and for me at least story-lines ripped from my memoirs (teenage son of a local lunch counter proprietor decades before “local” took to meaning “bourgeious”). Por ejemplo: Bob fires his kids from the restaurant who then become (spoiler alert) drug mules. That was me, not once but 7 times: fired by mi madre. (Yo Snowden, I leave the drug running rumors for you to hack out.)

Bob’s art most profoundly imitated mi vida largo in ‘Bad Tina.’ About a third into this fine episode, the neighborhood kid your parents warned you about, Tammy Larsen, shows her truant colors inspiring mi esposa to look over at me and pregunta:

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“Did you have any friends like that growing up? [pause for ill-fitting recollection] I did.”

[Lock-down pause]

“I was that friend growing up.”

“Oh my…I mean, of course.”

“The ring leader, the “bad influence”, everyone said “oh, he’s just trying to get attention” but really what was going on was I was trying to free my peers from the blood-sucking talons of authority, claws sharpened on the rotting corpse of regimented public education, remember how my very first day of kindergarten I talked all the kids at the bus stop to walk back to my house with me because “Who needs school when you have toys?” and then again in junior high because “Who needs school when you have MTV?” and again in high school because “Who needs school when you have Starship Fantasy ?” and when my oppressive authority figure of a mother fired me from the restaurant for the third or maybe it was the fourth time I talked my little sister into getting fired along with me because “Who needs to a job  when you’ve got roller skates?”

“I get it. I get it. You know you can’t ever tell our boys about any of this.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[authoritative pause of the Roku]

“I swear on my mother’s cremains. I can even get them out of the closet it you like.”

[Satisfactory unpause of Roku]

Because “Who needs to tell anyone anything when you’ve got the Internet?”

“What was that?”

“I love Bob’s…and you.”

Okay, so I made up most of that last conversation from about “of course” on. A slight digression/diatribe may have followed mi esposa’s “Oh my” moment, with me prattling on about my being born with a rebel corazon kicking at my ribcage (Read: angsty adolescent internal hormonal drone warfare) and even setting up a table at my high school organization assembly for an “Anarchists Club” which of course rejected all applications but even before I could finish that spiel mi esposa’d fallen fast asleep not out of boredom – I quite often remind myself – but because unlike the animated universe of Bob’s burgers, raising even two boys, there’s rarely enough time or sleep to go around. And because we don’t run a family restaurant, preparing food for ourselves has become less of a chore or work and more like a special occasion, even when the definition of “cooking” gets broadened to mean unwrapping some frozen thing for the nuker.

For new families and/or because “Who needs a food blog recipe when you have frozen burritos?” let these IMOs be my bad influence on your poor eating habits.

 

PJ’s Organic Traditional Chicken

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Not sure which traditions the organic chicken followed prior to its beheading and karmic destiny to bring a smile to this burros tortilla and – in addition to a light tongue blistering – this consumer’s face. Savory C +

 

Amy’s Burrito Cheddar

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The only bomb of the bunch los ninos have a taste for (along with Cedaphil, sidewalk chalk and library books). Underdeveloped palates not the best judges. A strong stand-by: B

47th Street Pizza Lemonito Burrito

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Organic, Kosher, hormone free, no trans fat, lemon(?)really anything but what I expect in a frozen burrito and the best explanation as to why it tastes like lentil soup. Though the toro-beating tortilla made it worth the purchase. Like they say around my alma mater ASU: ‘D’s get degrees’: C-/D+

 

Good Food Made Simple  – Uncured Canadian Bacon

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There’s no accounting for good tasering and no cure for this sad, soggy, snapless schlub. F

 

Good Food Made Simple – Turkey Sausage

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Frozen burrito trope: the healthier the ingredients the nastier the texture and flavor:F

 

Good Food Made Simple – Southwestern Veggie

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Rhymes with wedgie: F

The Anasazi Burrito

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You know how they named all those Korean SUVs Santa Fe and Tucson when they have about as much to do with Down Yonder as a frozen burrito would the Anasazi? Except of course for the Adobe notes (as in mud not software) slightly better than hospital food: D

 

The evol line

No evol lost on this flight o deliciously packaged bass-ackward sottirrub.

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Shredded Beef: C

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Uncured Bacon (American): C

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Chicken Rice & Beans: C

And let’s not be afraid to call a wrap a wrap instead of racially stereotyping this ‘lean and fit’ (WTF?)  burrito because it’s spicy. This phony’s about a Mexican as Donald Trump:

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Egg White & Spinach: D

 

If you are still with me you may be wondering (like me): How can such healthy burros be a bad influence? All but Amy’s are so thoroughly unappetizing one scalding bite and you’ll be gunning it to the Late Night Taco Bell drive-thru soon as the kids are asleep even if you don’t have a babysitter or a car, not without first pausing Bob’s Burgers and finishing your beer, of course.

Unless you’re blessed enough to get your grubby manos on one of these (I luckily got the last one and have not seen them since. Manna from El Dio indeed):

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A+fckin A+mazing

I Hope The Russians Love Their Tamales Too

2 May

Dear Internet,

You’re probably too young to remember life during cold war time. The grade school “fire” drills, the monthly air-raid siren testing, Spies Like Us. Y so you’ll probably never have to fear total destruction courtesy of the USSR and/or John Lydon and Afrika Bambaata.

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Mira or escuche or whatever, all that red threatening military might, muscle, and missile turned out to be about as powerful as the almighty Oz and/or a toilet paper roll. It seems for those of us old enough to remember them, the Red Square parades broadcast for the USofA’s viewing terror starred the latest in faux weaponry: as empty an Eminem threat.

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Cut To: Desert Storm where it turns out the few SCUDs that may have actually caused bodily harm were in the parlance of the pyromanical Black Cat firecracker fiend:

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And yet, because there’s always an “and yet” which I have no idear how translate into espanol, even though the Russians were shooting blanks, the Russians were shooting blanks, the Russians were shooting blanks, while we learned to fear not what the USSR can do to US(ofA) Russia, well, not so much:

 

What made this think go off in my hypocampus like so many ladyfingers?

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A “holy crap tamales from Texas” purchase from the great Woodman’s of Aurora, IL.

 

Inspired packaging promised something world beating.

 

Contents turned out to be as dud as a SCUD. Flavor notes: empty Charmin roll, Desert Storm axle grease, Johnny Rotten gobshite, more dead than red.

 

You Will Know Us By The Trail of Blue-haired Cross-dressers

17 Oct

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 set the alarm clock early enough to hammer out a catch-up post. I have approximately 90 minutes to complete a post chock full of sabrosa feedings (and feelings) before said boy starts howling for his Chi-Mexless mix breakfast. Such is the schedule of a new/old papa grande.

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If you’re still with me, great, though I figured maybe the mention of dogs and wolves on a mostly food blog might send even the most adventurous eater running to the ASPCA. Other major turn-offs: diapers and hummus.

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There is a method to all this meandering.

It occurred to me yesterday how vital reconnecting to this blog, and the English language as communicated by grown-ups, albeit at a 3rd Grade reading level. Too much son can turn the brain into Gerbers.

Running late to work and confounded by Ventra, Chicago CTA’s latest public transportation pass upgrade/get-rich-quick-scheme/fiasco I hoped on a DIVVY – CTA gem  – to pedal Wicked Witch of the West fast to work. (Note to DIVVY designers: a 4th or 5th gear please? And maybe slow down on distribution. Rode past three full docks last week. Hey CTA! Two words: supply & demand.)

I didn’t get all Wizard of Ozy and cackle and screeh “I’ll get you my pretty,” yet spending most non-work waking hours immersed in the vernacular of a toddler finally overtook me at a traffic signal. A young Taylor Swift fan pulled up next to me in her forest green Saturn, this blissfully mild autumn morning, windows rolled down, stereo crancked. Riding shotgun her fellow blissed out traveler, her rescue mutt, hung his head out the window for a good pant. Overcome by this still life, I began to bark and say “doooogie googie doogie poochie poochie pooh”. Taylor Swift yanked her pooch in by the collar, rolled up the windows and nearly knocked me off the DIVVY making a hard right away getaway from this barking loon.

If only this weren’t the second public baby-babble/holwing outburst this week.

Background: In a desperately hilarious sad sack SAHD tome I read prior to the tortilla model’s arrival the author slyly creates a mix CD of his favorite animal songs to play for his kids that also serves to provide the reader a hip-ness check list.

Cut To: Taking a note from this book (hyuck) and upping the ante, I created both a iApe and iDog tunes folders. Obviously Snoop is number one with a bullet (hycuk 2.0) with George Clinton riding shotgun. The lesser known – to my middle/indeterminate aged ears -is a ‘Big Bad Wolf” (NC-17 video closes out this post), which is, as they say on the BBC, “a real banger”.  Even though dance tracks are really songs and don’t really have choruses, this chorus of this song is incredibly danceable and sing-a-ble “The big bad wolf, hoowwoooooohhh”. The UK sausage comparison becomes obvious.

If you are still with me it’s obvious where this new paragraph is heading. So yes, with the tortilla model faced out, strapped into the Bjorn for all the world to fawn over and adore, we strolled merrily along north up Halsted street. Lost in the bliss known only to a 1 y.o . tortilla model and his pop aroused on such outings, I unconsciously broke out singing “Big Bad Wolf”, replete with howls and beats…at top volume causing a 6’3’ blue-haired cross-dresser to scurry, no, sprint through traffic towards safety.

Or the tortilla model might put it:

Q: Why did the blue haired cross-dresser cross the road?

A: The Big Bad Wolf.

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All of this of course, an exhaustingly prolix explanation and/or excuse for the dearth of posts – it’s not like I’m not eating – while a lot of comida rico continues to go in my mouth all that’s come out – until now – is HOOOWWWWLLLLLll….anyway, onto the the vittles:

Colorado Cantaloupe w/ Lime and New Mexico Chile Powder

Rocky Ford Cantalope with lime and NM Red Chile powder

Inhaled this astounding combination daily in DF, 2000 – along with a considerable amount of smog. No better way to have melon. Same holds true for a Southern (as in Dixie) version: Honeydew w/ lemon and black pepper.

Taost and Hot Honey Monkey Toast

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Taost

Layers: butter, cream cheese, raspberry preserves, green chile

Hot Honey Monkey Toast

Layers: butter, peanut butter, banana slices, hot honey

Pollo Asado del Magico Realisticimo

This one talks in stereo to your lengua – not unlike those parrots in Love In The Time of Cholera.

Seriously, if you can whip up a better marinade shoot me an email with directions: to you casa, for dinner, pronto….

Before:

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After:IMG_3589

Marinade boneless chicken breasts overnight in the following mix; adjust to your preferences:

¼ cup Trader Joe’s Virgin Olive Oil

tsp salt

tsp black pepper

pinch Mexican oregano

tbls red chile powder

tsp red chile powder (from same spice section as oregano: “ethnic foods”)

few shakes of garlic powder and Goya Adoba

juice of 1/3-1/2 lime

Splash of tequllla

The Next Day:

Heat grill to 500 degrees min

Let pollo reach room temperature

Grill covered 5 minutes a side

Remove from grill and cover with aluminum foil for 5 minutes

Serve chopped/sliced/whole/on a stick/in a tortilla/etc

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Exhibit A: Torta

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Layers: smushed black beans, tomatoes, PAMR, roasted jalapeno, avacado

Pan: La Boulangerie

OwwwwhooooooooOooOooooOooo….