Even though we have access to cuisines from all over the world as Americans, we rarely eat True and Original recipes. Most of what we eat has been Americanized, made more palatable for our mainstream tastes. For instance, if we Americans think Italian, we usually think tomato-based sauces, but that couldn't be farther from the truth in most of Italy.
This is never truer than when talking about Mexican food. We think Mexican food and we think rice and beans and fajitas and cheese enchiladas.
And nothing will bring this truth closer to home than a stroll through the meat department of a culturally Mexican grocery store. Now, I grew up knowing about Tripe and Menudo, and even though it will never cross my lips, I understand that different cultures grow up with different foods and uses for various animal parts. (Ask me to tell you the story about Mother's Hog Head Cheese. Hint: they don't just call it that for no reason.)
But nothing - and I mean freaking nothing - will ever be able to make me understand why, in the meat department in the Fiesta down the street from me, right there next to the boneless, skinless chicken breasts is a neatly wrapped package of bright yellow chicken feet, claws and all. For sale. As a foodstuff.Labels: cooking, personal urban drama |
