There comes a time in everyone’s life where they decide that they would like to throw a little get-together with food, drinks, and friends. It sounds so fun! They just can’t wait for the day to arrive.
But on the day of, about an hour before guests arrive, they’re frazzled and in freak-out-mode from everything that has gone wrong in preparation for the party. (Trust me, things go wrong. Either they forgot to buy ice, or the appetizers didn’t turn out, or something is taking longer to cook than it should– or all three…)
I know it doesn’t just happen to me, so I really hope you are nodding your head and “mmhmm”-ing as you read. However, we learn from our mistakes and adjust accordingly. We learn that simplicity is the way to go more times than not, because food and drinks don’t have to be complex to be tasty, elegant, and impressive. But wait! There’s more…
It wasn’t until I was a year into college that I realized that I really was becoming my mother. I would have recoiled at such a suggestion only months before, when I lived at home and nuclear-blast-level arguments were a common occurrence. Like my mother? We’re nothing alike.
After a year of living away, I began to see that our past arguments had been fueled not by an emotional distance, but by how much we cared about each other and how easily it upset us when there was a bump in the road. We butted heads because of our similarities (we are both stubborn, opinionated, and hot-tempered) that made it difficult to reconcile our differences (she’s a clean freak and I’m… well… not). Underneath the issues we had, we were actually extremely close. I called my mom at least 3 times a week for the majority of my time living away from home to tell her about my life or complain about classes, because despite the many friends I had made at Rutgers, my mom was always my most valued confidante. But wait! There’s more…
Unsurprisingly enough, these parties occurred at least weekly throughout my sophomore year of college. My friend Whitley and I would venture to the upstairs apartment to be greeted by the third member of our trifecta, Komal, who had already dished out 3 bowls of the instant noodles. Then we’d have our girl time, or whatever it is you call sitting around and basically doing nothing, but with company.
The Ramen Noodle Parties continued during the entire year I lived in that house, but occasionally Komal and I would decide to switch things up as Ramen got sort of– dare I say it?– monotonous. Komal showed an immense interest in cooking, and I was somewhere between interested and just joining her in her kitchen adventures because I enjoyed her company.
At the time, Komal and I could appreciate good food, but that’s not to say we knew what to do with it. More times than not, we wound up with something barely edible (but as we were in college, we always ate it all regardless), and we were no strangers to the blaring of smoke alarms. But wait! There’s more…
Most likely, when we hear the word “taco” in the US, we think of the ground beef stuffed tortillas with a variety of garnishes that you can find everywhere from Taco Bell onward to the sit-down restaurants we frequent when a Mexican food craving grabs hold. However, in Mexico, ground beef tacos really aren’t popular at all. In Mexico, they prefer more flavorful fillings, such as beef tongue and beef cheek, which most Americans have never even thought to put in a taco. What we’re really missing out on, though, is pork tacos, as they are seemingly absent from the majority of restaurants up here. (Mind you, if you’re in the South or a very diverse city, you may already know what I’m getting at.)
So what are the best Mexican tacos, then, you ask? (Or perhaps you don’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway. This is need-to-know information.) The absolute best tacos are Tacos Al Pastor. But wait! There’s more…
It’s likely that I’ve been staring at an empty blog post box for an hour or so now. I can’t be sure.
It’s almost 9PM [Edit: 11PM], and I’m absolutely out of it, guys. I really hate to be a complainer, but yesterday’s hopefulness for better luck in May has disintegrated. Sunday was the car break-in. Monday was the car accident. Last night I developed an 102 degree fever and kidney pain. Today was a slew of running around to doctors, continued pain, and exhaustion beyond belief. It hasn’t been my week, but what can I (or, should I say, we all) do besides roll with the punches?
Despite everything, I’ve been trying desperately to get this blog post up to share with you. Why? Because sometimes life sucks, and other times, there’s a bowl of Esquites. Esquites, or Mexican Street Corn Salad, is one of those foods that make everything a little bit better. Just looking at these pictures again makes me feel slightly more fortunate. I mean, I did get to eat that, after all. But wait… There’s more!
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