Recipes. Musings. Portland. Tucson. Fusing Cultures Through Cuisine
What do you do when you’re bed bound? Other than reading near autobiographical books showcasing strained emotional relationships with well intentioned family members and their obsessions with food that liberates them, maybe it would be time to post that meal I made for mother’s day.
My mother’s palate is interesting. She used to crave the spiciest of fare. I heard stories of her requesting the hottest of pickles while in utero. That’s where my family insists I got my habanero tongue from. Unfortunately a weak stomach prevents my mother from indulging in the fiery fare so she must settle for the often listless world of medium-mild. I get the sense sometimes that eating has become quite the cumbersome experience for her. She has very particular tastes.
My mother can’t eat foods that don’t have spices. It’s gotta be light, with substance, spicy but not too hot, and always vegetable-centered. She claims to not enjoy elaborate cooking, but watching her eat most American veg cuisine is quite the trainwreck. Seconds after the first bite her disappointment is easily read by “paste face.” I hate paste face… I hope never to see it again bu tseeing as I insist on taking my parents to all kinds of new modernist cuisine joints (because I am that kind of obnoxious first generation American and food thrill seeker) I am guaranteed to be reunited with this paste face.
These are some tofu tacos seasoned with a menagerie of dried chilies with cumin and coriander, some grilled hatch chilies, squash, mangos and avocado.
Next to it I have a coconut and red beet south Indian puliya-inspired quinoa “risotto.”
For desert I made almond blackberry and mango pastries, some with rather hideous and embarrassing breathing holes that I’m too sleepy to care about.
My mother’s paste face was successfully avoided. It could have been the food, but I’m pretty sure it was the pink dress I wore for her that day to make up for the 15 years of being a poser goth “kid.”
Nothing much to say really cept I love my mommy. A LOT.
I come from great stock.