Give me this day, my daily bread.

Give me this day, my daily bread.

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...
Oh how I’ve mished their mixiote!

Oh how I’ve mished their mixiote!

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...

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