Foodie Dreams
I was remembering a cookbook writer, Huntley Dent, the other morning as I combed the town for enough food for a couple days’ worth of dinners. Huntley Dent’s book is entitled Feast of Santa Fe: Cooking of the American Southwest, and a wonderful book it is (tragically lost to me now, with so many of its brethren, in the Great Pre-Move Book Unloading). A particularly memorable part is where he discusses some dishes traditionally eaten in the days preceding Christmas in tones of truly inspired poetry and longing for their simple goodness, their rustic wholesomeness, their utter foreignness to anything we eat today, in Santa Fe or out of it. “I WANT THAT FOOD,†I remember him writing, and he made me want it too. Of course I already wanted it, which is why I’d bought the book — but you know what I mean. (Actually I once lived in New Mexico, but that’s another story.)
My point here is that the sudden memory of this book caused me to snort out loud at my simple-life fantasies of yore, realizing that the Sonoran village where we now live is probably very similar to Santa Fe of 100 years ago. The chief difference being Sonora has beef and Santa Fe had pork.
A discerning reader glancing over these 10 feasts of Christmas as I think they were called, would quickly note that they all consisted of the same three or four ingredients, done up in slightly differing ways. There was pork, beans, flour tortillas, red chile, and I think green chile, although frankly he may have been stretching it there because there wouldn’t be any green chile by December, unless people canned it back then. Which I suppose is possible. It makes for romantic reading, all right — but don’t try it at home. Unless you’re forced to. Simplicity is all very well and something I aspire to, but I start getting health problems if I can’t eat some vegetables on a regular basis.
Our current location is actually paradise compared to the neighboring town where we spent the summer. There, you could buy beef one day a week, IF you arrived early enough. Sleep till 8 and you’d miss out. There was no pork, fish, chicken, lamb, or goat available at any time, ever. Vegetable selection was exceedingly limited and miserable in quality. Nobody in town sold butter. Here at least, we can get butter, a few more vegetables including broccoli, and beef/pork/chicken/fish most days of the week, but it still drives me crazy.
Do let me clarify that this situation is NOT typical of Mexico as a whole, far from it. The entire southern half of Mexico is blessed with colorful, overflowing central markets in most towns and a wealth of regional cuisines. The ranch country to the north, however, has far more austere traditions in food. If you’re attached to your eating habits, be sure to check out the local food shopping before settling on an area.
As my predilection is for a more or less Mediterranean-type diet, the lack of vegetables presents a real problem. I can stock up on olive oil, decent parmesan, and vino in the city (along with Friskies and kitty litter), and I can make my own bread. But the only real solution I can see for the vegetables is to learn to grow them myself. Stay tuned.