Seasoning - Dirty Gringo
What does Dirty Gringo taste like.....well something like this:
A red-headed stranger walks into a dusty cantina in El Paso. He orders up a Cerveza, a shot of tequila, huevos rancheros and 2 tacos al pastor with no seasoning. The Mamacita taking his order doesn't understand the request of no seasoning and rolls her eyes at the dirty gringo and walks away slightly annoyed at the obviously uninformed gringo.
She returns with his food and slides it on the small wooden table towards him as he reaches down and pulls a black pouch from his saddlebag. He opens it and proceeds to very delicately distribute the brown dust from the bag. His rough hands and fingers doing their best to evenly, almost ceremoniously cover the food that the Mamacita slid callously before him just moments before.
He proceeds to eat while the Mamacita stares at him curiously and coldly from behind the bar. Her intrigue finally gets the best of her and she indignantly blurts out, "whats in the bag hefe?" She assumed it was a sugar-laden concoction made by some nameless corporate conglomerate in a big city that she never cared to visit.
Without looking up from the food the stranger says, "a blend of spices that my Abuela gave me the recipe to before she passed away. She was the best cook I've ever known." "She grew up working in a cantina but had her own way of cooking cocina Mexicana that people rode for hours to eat.
The Mamacita was taken back. First off, how could this dirty man with his thick red hair and mustache have a real Abuela? Second, how good does a spice blend have to be to carry it around with you everywhere?
She walked over to the table looked at the bag and the stranger motioned with his fork toward the bag, giving her permission to pick it up. The Mamacita opened it up, stuck her nose in it, and was instantly transported back to being a little girl playing outside her family's home in Guadalajara. She was reminded of the scents wafting out of the kitchen as her own Abuela and Momma cooked together. She took a very small pinch from the bag and put it on her tongue. She was reminded of all the food her family would gather and eat on holidays before they made their journey north to cross the border.
She bashfully smiled at the stranger as he finally looked up from under the brim of his hat. She knew she had misjudged him. Now they had an understanding that was forged through food memories of their shared culinary pasts. She quietly turned around to get the man another Cerveza on the house to make amends for the trespass.