Sunday, November 2, 2008
skin off a pig's back
Gera and I went grocery shopping Friday. Our grocery list: milk, cilantro, onion, tomatillas, jalapenos, tilapia, avocados, bread, brown eggs, cream, orange juice, red wine, limes, tortillas, fajita meat, bananas, zucchini/squash, toilet paper, taleras, toothpaste, yogurt, carrots, beans, freso cheese, water, lotion and epazote. Most of the time we plan meals, but this spree was random and even though we had a list, we weren't sure what we would have for dinner. I said ceviche; he said fajitas. We ended up making tortas!
The bad part about living and shopping for food in Texas is that you bend--all the way. I went down one aisle, Gera down another. Shortly, we met up at the meat section. I wanted to die! Lo and behold he had in his hand a big old gigantic piece of pigskin (chicharon). I said, "Nu-uuh, we're not eatin that! Who's gonna eat that?" He started to smile. I said, "I'm for real." He said, "Calmate Morena!" He calls me black girl (morena) when I get worked up. But seriously----the pigskin was humongous--BIG!--. We go to the van; he opened the bag, broke off a big piece, crunched and crunched. Looked at me. Crunched some more and dared me to take a bite. I have to admit, I love skins--I used to freak out my best friend, Tracy, eating bags from time to time. She would say, "That shit's nasty!" She wouldn't touch that kind of food to save anybody's life. But I did love skins then and I do love skins now we just don't buy them--and because Texas runs too deep in my blood, I bent. All the way. I broke off a small piece, then another, then another. Of course the entire time, I was thinking this can't be good for me, this can't be good for Gera, this is so damn good, but it can't be good for my heart, for his arteries, it can't be good for anything. But the flavor and the crunch and the light greasy taste, the salt--wow! I couldn't help myself. We did well, though because we never finished the bag. We probably won't do that again for at least another year. I hope!