Avocado Pico de Gallo

I tried to look up the origin of the phrase "pico de gallo" only to find this as one of the possible explanations online:

"Fighting Cocks are calmed by their handlers by placing the rooster's head in the mouth. Darkness causes birds to immediately begin the sleep cycle. It was explained to me (by a great Restaurant owner in Acuna, Mex.) that often as soon as the handler put the bird's head in his mouth he would often be pecked on the tongue. The spices in the salsa gives the same feeling, hence 'pico de gallo' is the beak of a fighting rooster biting your tongue."

Which is a delightful visual.

This recipe adds in avocados as well as bell peppers to make a texture and flavor explosion that is all at once creamy, crunchy, and fresh.

Get that chicken head out of your mouth and get ready to put this in it...

Fatty Taters. Delicious and fun to say.

In honor of International No Diet Day, I present to you my most requested recipe, a dish I like to call "Fatty Taters".  

It's almost embarrassing in its simplicity and I always cringe when I am asked for the recipe because then everyone knows how absurdly easy these are.  It was given to me by my friend Melissa's mom because all the best recipes come from somebody's mom, not a food stylist.

Comida de Cultural Appropriation

It's almost Cinco de Mayo.  That holiday that everyone loves because it means drinking and taquitos and the holiday that very few of us know the history of.  

As a white person who has lived in California for just about half of my life (San Diego for the first half of it and a weird little Central Valley stint in my mid-20's), I have my own perspective on Mexican food:  Either give it to me authentic, fresh from your tia's kitchen, or make it absurdly bastardized from a world where anything with Fritos is considered "authentico".

Here are my top recipes for a gringo-centered "Mexican" menu:

"Queso" 

(Recipe makes one tailgating-sized vat)

There are endless versions of this, but this is what my Uncle Ken made at every San Diego Chargers game I can remember from my youth, so it's the official best version...

A treatise on cupcakes and identity politics

I went to school in Europe for a year, and the most important thing I learned while I was there is that Europeans hate it when Americans claim to be other nationalities. You know the thing we do, where a moderate helping of Gallic ancestry makes you "French," or, say, that a smattering of Scottish blood obviously means you are descended—loosely, of course—from Rob Roy.

My family says we are.

I learned this the hard way, by making a similar statement to a new Scottish acquaintance and having her look at me like she'd suddenly discovered gum under the doorknob.

Hail Caesar

Over the years, my father and I have developed a bit of a special relationship. Like the United States and the UK, this relationship has probably been helped by the fact that we reside three thousand miles apart, and hindered by a profoundly different sensibility of what constitutes correct behavior in public. Like the United States, my father has a tendency to act rashly and with great commotion when he is feeling threatened; he almost always apologizes but just as often it’s a little too late. Like the United Kingdom, I often take myself a little too seriously and feel very aggrieved when my point of view is not immediately recognized. We share a taste for scatological humor, but if asked would probably tell very different jokes.