I think moles are Mexico’s greatest contribution to the world of cuisine. And I think, if Mexico decides to declare a national dish, it should be the magnificent mole poblano. Mexican moles deserve to be ranked with the world’s most celebrated sauces. The...
Significant if the stars you seek are the shining stars of the Galaxy Oenologia Major. I’m talking about some of the winners of the World Wine Awards that I wrote about last week. And this news coming after I learned that they are now all sold out at La Europea....
I always liked Tannat, the restaurant with the Uruguayan accent on Ancha de San Antonio. I liked Jose Manuel and Monica Garcia, the couple that owned it. And I liked that the focus was almost as much on the wine as the food. But I hardly ever went there. I’m not...
Hot diggity dog, diggity, boom what you do to me. “We’re going to Costco, do you want to come.” Stan and Peggy Jones know that Don Day’s Wife and I don’t drive. Don Day’s Wife by desire. Don Day by the wishes of anyone who’s...
When Los Tres Hermanos Hall are in town, a couple of things are guaranteed. There’ll be a lot of wrists flicked dealing out poker hands. There’ll be a lot of elbows bent lifting glasses. I’d been trying to get all three of the brothers, Doug, Don and...
You may have passed it a hundred times. But you’ve probably never been inside. In fact, as you passed it, you were probably looking in the opposite direction. Trying to catch a bird’s eye glimpse of the city of San Miguel down below. I’m talking...
I’m jealous. Really jealous. You see there’s this woman in San Miguel de Allende. And she’s written this book about food. Mexican food, no less. Specifically, about one of the most fascinating and bewildering aspects of Mexican food. I’m talking about all of those...
You always know when you’re nearing a Mexican village anytime during the morning; there is that unmistakable smell of wood smoke intermingled with that of tortillas cooking on the comal, and the rhythmic patting of the hands as the masa is fashioned into...
I’d had a thirst for Ramos Pinto Porto ever since I was about fourteen. A taste for Port at the age of fourteen you’re probably saying? As Desi said to Lucy, “I think you have some explainin’ to do.” No my palate for fortified wine...
No one ever forgets their first time. Do they? Mine was at The Ebony Knight coffee house in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. A place where I used to go to be infatuated by this bucktoothed blonde with flared nostrils and Everest height cheekbones called Joni Anderson....
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