Spicy Memories On a Plate
Deep South Flavor in the Far North
This is not a story about a place I went to, it is about the place I came from, and how I brought part of it with me to a far away land. A little piece of my childhood on a plate, a familiar smell in the kitchen of good memories and loved ones.
In Texas there is Mexican food on every corner. Tacos and burritos are as common as turkey sandwiches. Lovely ladies with a skill I’ll never possess sell tamales door to door. It is a luxury taken for granted by the locals, of which I was one for decades. I learned to cook at my mother’s knee, and overall I am a good cook. Meatloaf and chicken and pies, “normal” food I do quite well. Mexican food I did not learn, because she did not cook it. When we wanted Mexican food, we bought it. It was inexpensive and readily available, and delicious. Nothing says a beautiful Sunday afternoon like a sizzling plate of fajitas, or happy birthday quite like cheese enchiladas with refried beans and Spanish rice. How much of it did I eat over the years? Only God knows, it was a lot. But times change, and people move. I moved, from hot and spicy to cool and fishy. I found myself in Alaska. A beautiful place, with kind people and breathtaking scenery. Few things are lacking here, but good Mexican food is one of them. My first weekend, fresh off the boat, I was hungry and didn’t know what to eat in this new and strange place. Not knowing if I wanted halibut burgers or the other new and slightly odd to me foods I encountered, I saw a sign for a Mexican restaurant and it seemed safe and familiar. I went in, and I ordered. It was awful! I later learned that the people here enjoy that restaurant and consider it to have good food. But to my little Texas taste buds, what they had done on that plate bordered on criminal. I have never been to that restaurant again. I found foods here I liked, I got a job and a place to live and life went on. Still I had this hole in my diet, that no amount of wild salmon could fill. I tried other Mexican places in town, with similar results. Depressed that I may never have enjoyable Mexican food again, a beautiful idea entered my mind. “They make it down there. Maybe I can make it up here.” The exciting thought was a breath of spicy fresh air to my pallet. And I sought recipes and cooking techniques online. I found a few that seemed good and tried them. After trial and error, and nearly doubling the spices on some, I started making meals that tasted like home. I learned Cayenne was an old childhood friend, and that a good marinade is the secret to amazing fajitas. I learned that fresh Jalapeños cost considerably more here than they did there, but are so worth it. I use garlic and onion in copious quantity, also Paprika and Cilantro. I learned that the beating heart of Mexican food is Cumin, and it tastes best organic and freshly ground. I found Alaska has all the ingredients I need available, and that the lack of good Mexican food here is much more about skill than supply. Now years later, I often say, only half jokingly that “The only good Mexican food in Alaska comes out of my kitchen.” I have a friend in Texas whose wonderful Mexican grandma could be a millionaire in six months, if only she would move to Alaska and open a restaurant. You may want my recipes, and if my taste buds and nose could speak, they’d gladly oblige. I don’t know my recipes, I don’t measure most things. I look at beef and I pour in spices, my eyes have learned what my tongue likes. While I cannot offer you a recipe that says “1/4 teaspoon of this. ½ cup of that.” I can give you advice if you are just starting out. The cooking methods you find online are sound. The seasonings recommended there are often inadequate. Learn your spices, smell them, taste them, make friends with them, only buy organic ones, then add more of each than the recipe calls for. Try the dish, if you find it is lacking, then next time add more. Buy good quality meat, organic is best. Let it get to room temperature before you cook it, it cooks better that way. Fresh ingredients are always best, canned will do when fresh isn’t available (Alaska in February). Love what you cook, smell it, taste it, let your heart tell you which spice bottle to grab again. If it smells good it will taste good. If you make it too spicy, serve it with sour cream and plenty of drinking water, and do better next time. I find it comforting beyond words that I can have delicious Mexican food anytime I please, because I am the one who makes it. If you have a food you love, and live in a place where you cannot get it, or what you can get tastes terrible to you, learn to cook it. You will be so glad you did, I am. And few things are more exemplary of the vastness of America, than tromping through two feet of snow, to go home and make enchiladas; and enjoying them while staring at snow covered mountains beyond the ocean outside your front door. Perhaps one day I will learn to make cuisine from other nations, Asian and Middle Eastern food are definitely on my to do list. But for now, I am satisfied, with a taste of my old home, here in my new home. And warm memories on my plate.
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