El chef

My friends Kiyomi-san and her husband Tom-san have been great friends to Saori and I over the years, so I invited them over for Mexican food for dinner last night. I was actually very happy to have had the chance to do something nice for them in return, especially since they've invited me over for many lovely dinners in the past.

I actually spent most of the day working on the dinner. I headed out early and hit Pro's Ranch Market, a Mexican-oriented grocery store. I actually really enjoy shopping there. The atmosphere is festive, there's always a lot of people shopping, there's a vibrancy and texture which I find appealing and inviting. There's something enjoyable about picking out a few pounds of tomatillos, a pound of key limes, trying to figure out which Mexican cheese I want, hunting for ripe avocados.

The two things I couldn't find were good quality chicken stock for the tomatillo salsa, and watercress for the salad. So I went to Safeway.

Mom and Larry live in part of town which is heavily Hispanic. There are actually two Hispanic grocery stores about a mile apart on central avenue. These are lively, fun, and interesting places. The non-Hispanic focused grocery stores, by contrast, are not. After spending much time in the mariachi music infused Ranch Market produce aisle, overflowing with fruits and vegetables, where there are several different types of avocados on sale, the Safeway produce aisle feels like a convenience store. The vast, empty, sterile spaces with a few sad bags of celery, neat little organized rows of precisely seven bell peppers, just feels pathetic. And no watercress.

 I started cooking as soon as I got home. I am all about touch- the way things feel in my hand. I think one of the reasons I enjoy cooking Mexican food in particular is because it is such a textural experience. There is the slippery greasiness from shredding the chicken, the papery texture of the tomatillo husk concealing a slightly tacky yet pliant fruit underneath, the crispness of slicing into a fresh chile pepper, the crumbling granularity of aged cotija cheese, the pebbled skin of the lime and the fallen leaf texture of dried chiles.

I was cooking my famous chicken enchiladas, with some fresh guacamole, and a recipe I'd never tried before for a jicama salad with[out] watercress and a lime-cilantro oil dressing. All three were recipes from Rick Bayless cookbooks. Actually, I finally broke down an bought his Everyday Mexican Cooking which is basically his nearly obligatory Rachel Ray type cookbook. Except all the reviews said that it was actually, really good. Salad was good, it reminded me of how much I enjoy jicama.

Dinner was nice. They brought Mexican beers and palletas (popsicles) from a shop off of Mill avenue. [side note: they figured out how to make money with a brick and mortar store on Mill avenue selling popsicles???] The popsicles were actually pretty good.