Beef and tortas

Yesterday, I addressed the issue of caldo de res, one of my favorite meals. I mentioned that I rarely ordered it in a restaurant because the beef is usually gristly. I attributed this not to Mexicans’ liking it gristly, but to the fact that gristly beef is cheaper to buy.

Later, my child bride told me it’s because Mexicans like gristly beef. I prefer to think it’s that she likes it, for some godforsaken reason, not that Mexicans in general like gristly beef. But when she makes it at home, she does not use gristly beef because she knows I don’t want it, and she is an accommodating woman.

Above you see the caldo de res she made for our lunch today.

Caldo de res tastes better if it sits a good spell. Same goes for pozole. So, instead of lunching on the caldo de res yesterday, we hopped in the Honda and drove down the highway to a torta restaurant where we enjoyed Cubanos, the torta, not the cigar, although Cuban cigars are available here downtown.

We are amigos to the commies.

Driving home after the tortas, I took these photos along the highway to provide another taste, so to speak, of our area, which is moist and green in September due to months of daily rain.

I call this shot “Yellow House and Tree.”
Let’s call this one “Foggy Mountain and Overpass.”

Actually, “Yellow House and Tree” was photographed from outside the torta restaurant. It was directly across the highway.

Day in September

Though, like most houses, there are four sides to the Hacienda, with one exception, windows face in just two directions. The sole exception is the tiny window in the upstairs bathroom.

We’re looking out that one today.

It was bonkers raining this morning as I looked out that way, so I decided to shoot a brief video, but by the time I went downstairs for the camera and returned, it had slacked up quite a bit.

But I made the video anyway.

That white building you see near the start was topless the last time I opened this window, but someone has installed a board frame under big pieces of laminate. The surrounding greenery is due to months of daily rain. For years, there was a family living on the property, but they vanished one day, and the space returned to nature.

Thursday is market day on the nearby neighborhood plaza, so the two of us, in addition to the daily exercise walk, bought veggies and beef to make caldo de res for lunch tomorrow. I do love a good caldo de res, which I was first encountered in the 1990s in Houston at a Mexican restaurant in The Heights.

Alas, most caldos de res one finds here in restaurants sport very gristly beef, so I include it in my list of grub best eaten at home and prepared by my child bride. Pozole is also on the list for the same reason, gristly beef when others make it. I don’t know if Mexicans actually like gristly beef or that it’s just cheaper to purchase.

Likely the latter.


The Biden Gang

Speaking of purchases, the Taliban won’t be needing to buy military equipment anytime soon because The Biden Gang gifted them with more than enough for years to come.

According to news reports, the Democrat White House and Woke generals left more gear — guns, humvees, airplanes, helicopters — at Bagram Air Base than the United States gave Israel — the only democracy in the Mideast — in the last 30 years.

So what? At least we don’t have to suffer Trump’s Mean Tweets anymore. It’s a fair trade-off. ¿No?

Taliban enjoying its gifts from The Biden Gang.

Fettucchine and sugar donuts


BIANNUAL CHECKUP yesterday. All numbers were good. There were only three numbers: cholesterol, blood sugar and triglycerides. That’s the July test. In December I add a poop test and sometimes a chest X-ray and cholesterol breakdown. They invariably show me in top form. Knock on wood.

I did what I always do. No coffee or edge of toast at dawn to have the virgin tummy and blood stream. At 7:45, I drive the 15 minutes downtown to the laboratory that opens at 8. It’s really just a branch of the lab, a collection point on a cobblestone street, and it’s manned by a nice young woman, a girl really, in white.

Before taking my $21, she tells me that if I wait two days, there will be a sale, and it will only run me about half. But I’m already there, so I pay the full enchilada. Most Mexicans would have departed and returned two days later. I am more cavalier with cash. And lazy.

No appointment was necessary, of course. No doctor had to refer me. I just showed up, and the results were ready at 1:30 that afternoon. Quick, efficient, painless and intelligent.

I usually watch what I eat which is, of course, the reason my numbers are always good. But yesterday’s report merited a reward. For lunch, I ate fettuchine at a restaurant, plenty of cheese. Later, I gobbled not one, but two, sugar donuts from a bakery. Sometimes you gotta cut loose and howl.

* * * *

July Fourth. It’s just another day in Mexico. Some of the Gringos celebrate, but those are the folks who never make the transition to Mexico. Their bodies are here (at times), but their hearts and minds stay above the Rio Bravo.

There will be no weenies or hamburgers over charcoal at the Hacienda. Instead, my child bride has cooked up a big pot of caldo de res. This morning we took our plaza power walk. At 9 o’clock, it was 60 cool degrees.

Mountain life is lovely.

* * * *

Barry’s descent continues, which is always excellent news. A recent poll conducted by Quinnipiac University (one of the nation’s best, according to U.S. News and World Report) shows than a sizable hunk of America considers Barry the worst president since World War II. Well, duh.

The ineffectual, divisive, wooden “community organizer” parked in the Oval Office polled worse than Dubya, the peanut farmer and Tricky Dick. In a bit over two years, way too long, we’ll be rid of him. He must be a dreadful embarrassment to the bona fide blacks and clueless whites who voted for him en masse due to his skin tone.

No matter, I guess. The fettucchine was great and the sugar donuts were a delight.