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Menudo
9/23/2006
I love Mexican food. Good thing, because I live here.
When I first moved to Mexico, some dishes
I liked right off, like mole poblano and chiles en nogada. Others took a little time to get used to--the mashed beans and
lots of cilantro--but now I'm crazy about them.
And then there's menudo. Cow stomach soup. (Alright--it's tripe soup.
It's still awful.)
Now, I'm not squeemish about trying something new, especially in the food area. I've eaten my share
of exotic insects, pig heads, and goat, not to mention a huge number of locally available tropical fruits and roots and leafy
parts. But I won't do menudo.
Not that I never have the chance. As a matter of fact, I find myself staring at a big
bowl of steaming cow innards every Saturday morning, even before I get the sleep out of my eyes. Saturday is market day, and
on the way we always stop at a little fonda, open to the street on two sides, sit on plastic chairs, and Omar orders menudo.
With libro, corralito, ranilla, labio, pata, and carnaza, callo, and pedazos.
Those are not herbs and spices. They
are different bovine parts, most harvested from--but not limited to--the stomach area. Libro consists of folded leaves of
intestine (libro = book). Corralito is the familiar sheet of honeycomb meat. Labio is lips (and it's real good, actually),
pata is cow foot (also very tasty--I mostly have issues with just the stomach and intestinal parts). Carnaza is meaty, like
a pork roast. And pedazos are pieces. "Give me pieces," Omar says every Saturday morning, and from the huge aluminum cauldron
appear beige sheets of stomach lining and cow lips and books made of meat, and pieces.
Considering the rest of the
lineup, I've never bothered to ask what the little hunks were pieces of.
Anyway, Omar and everyone else loves Menudo.
It wakes you up, it starts you off, it cures wicked cruda (hangover). But I just can't.
I tried menudo once, at a buffet.
I came to it without prejudice or reservations, and it was inedible. Hideous, even.
Like Omar says, I should try it
again. Maybe I just had a bad bowl of intestines on my first try. And I'm sure he's right. Everybody loves menudo.
But
for now, every Saturday morning I order my two quesadillas, smother them with hot peppers, and bravely suffer the certainty
that if I would only try them, I would learn to love pieces.
Dan
and Omar
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