So there I was, standing in arrivals at Mexico City airport, after five hours of being sardined into a middle seat, now standing and watching an empty carousel rotate for an hour. “I better go and try to put the brakes on the shuttle”, said Don Day’s Wife. “We’ll...
After having been bunkered up in Toronto for far too many months, on my return to San Miguel de Allende, the very first restaurant I headed to was El Pato. I had been dreaming for weeks…no, make that months…about mixiote served by El Pato’s always...
I can’t remember exactly when I first tasted bacalao but I think I already had a three as the first digit of my age. I don’t really know what took me so long either. There weren’t too many other dishes that hadn’t somehow landed on a plate in front of me. I think it...
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