True Love

Over the weekend Chris and I went to our fave restaurant in Pacific Grove - Zocalo's. I ordered a wine margarita (they don't serve hard liquor - dammit!) and Chris ordered his favorite drink, the chevela preparada. As you can see in the photo, the drink is the size of a human head.

The first time we went to Zocalo's, it was still relatively early in our relationship. We were at some random car event in Monterey, staying at a hotel, doing the Fiat thang (willingly).

One night we found the restaurant by accident, (walking down the street in search of dinner). When we made the discovery of this place we fell even more in love. Bathed in soft candlelight, we each ordered wine margaritas, gazed into each other's eyes over beans and rice. I had lobster tacos (home-made corn tortillas!) We became one with the chilies. Later in the evening, we both became one - once again with the beans. We both love Mexican food. We were so totally infatuated with each other back then. Everything was glossy, wondrous and amazing, nary a wrinkle in site (and certainly no tumors!). Of course our love is still wondrous though very well-seasoned and refined. The biggest difference being the chevela.

At lunch I ordered the (red) pozole which is an ideal winter soup and because it was 90 degrees outside, thought a bowl of hot soup would be perfect. The soup was perfect. Fresh cabbage, onion, radishes, with a dash of oregano. And of course, the tender chunks of pork. The soup has lots of hominy in it which is such a weird invention. The last time I saw hominy on a plate was at Quito Elementary cafeteria. I think the government used to give schools enormous cans of free hominy. This was way before the days of GMO and Monsanto. And no one in the U.S. made pozole back in those days.

On the way back home we stopped to visit the sea lions all piled on top of each other. We miss this kind of piling on top of each other.  Now we live vicariously through salt-water drenched, sun-soaked, layers of flubbery barking sea lions, the smell of the harbor and rotting fish.

We're preparing to leave for a quick trip on Tuesday and Wednesday. We are pre-running a Fiat tour that will be 1000 miles over three days on Memorial Day weekend. This two-day trip it will be just Chris and I. Alone. Over a stick shift. No candlelight. In the 100 degree heat of Northern California. Chris covered in poison oak. Me in my compression bandages. True Love.