The bright fluorescent lights and cold air sliced through the operating room. No soft lighting from the lamp on the nightstand. No gentle breeze from bedroom ceiling fan. No walks in the backyard under the giant oak tree through hours of labor. An emergency C-section. She wasn’t supposed to be born this way.
My lower and middle back is stiff and achy, and my ribs feel as if they’re about to split apart. Even though the chiropractor is working on my back, along with my slightly misaligned hips, I feel as if I’ve inhabited someone else’s body. The skin on my back has sprouted something akin to acne*, which I’ve never had to deal with as an adult, except for the occasional pimple or two on my face when I get my period. I have to wear a pantiliner every day, because sometimes when I sneeze or cough or laugh, a bit of pee leaks out. Continue reading “Maternal Metamorphosis”
About 3 or 4 years ago, I stumbled onto an Old Navy dark blue denim jacket. It had been abandoned in a lost and found pile at Cattlelacs in Manchaca, Texas, where Doug Moreland hosted a weekly music jam. Doug was de-cluttering, and if I hadn’t taken the jacket, it would have been thrown out or donated. It fit perfectly—tailored but not too snug, with enough room to wear a light sweater underneath. It was meant for me, and it became a vital part of my wardrobe.
I wore it all over Austin and the surrounding Hill Country, to West Texas, to Los Angeles and the Bay Area, to Santa Fe, and to Mexico. I wore it with jeans and skirts. I wore it to casual places and fancy places. I loved the copper-toned snap buttons and the two little breast pockets. The way the bottom flared out with a hint of Victorian style.
Meat: a well-balanced mix of smooth and honeycomb cuts, cooked to the perfect degree of tenderness.
Hominy: as I asked for extra hominy, the hominy to meat ratio was slightly more than 1:1, but I personally like it that way.
Broth: perfect level of saltiness and a bit of a spicy kick, not too watery, but not too thick. Slightly on the greasy side, which I prefer. (Probably from the fat that melted off the several small pieces of pork “pata” bone that were left in the broth for flavor.)
Toppings: automatically comes with lime, onion, and jalapeño, but they were happy to add cilantro** (SEE ADDENDUM AT THE BOTTOM); the portions were just right.
Tortillas: homemade flour or corn, soft and fresh; if bread is more your thing, they do that, too.
Availability: any day of the week.
Price: $7.95 for the medium and $9.95 for the large. The small for $6.95 is also available on Saturdays and Sundays.
The Pozole and I moved to Arlington, Texas from Austin at the beginning of August 2016. After eighteen years in Austin, we’d more or less become experts in the Mexican food and taquerías of that town. But de’d only been to three Mexican restaurants in Arlington—once back in April, when we came for a visit, and the second and third time shortly after we moved here.
So far, I haven’t been thrilled. I honestly can’t remember much about the first one, since we were getting a quick breakfast on the run before driving back to Austin. The only thing I remember was getting a plastic engagement ring out of a plastic bubble from the red toy-vending machine. (Was the universe trying to tell us something?)