Wednesday, August 02, 2017

missing my sausage

I do not miss much about American culture.

When I am in Mexico, I almost forget there is a country north of the Rio Bravo. That is until one of my fellow bloggers or Facebook friends overdoses on Trump or Obama hysteria.

But, once I am here, I start suffering from my own bout of eccentric nostalgia.

This morning I popped into Costco to reconnoiter. I was not in a buying mood. My sole reason for being there was to (1) look at items I might buy if I still lived in Oregon (a 75" curved SUHD Samsung screen) and (2) list items I might want to take back to Mexico with me (almost nothing).

Everything in Costco is available in Mexico. I learned that lesson long ago. There is very little reason to lug any of it across the border. And, when I do, I often end up paying either duty or IVA on what I bring back. There certainly is no saving.

But that does not keep me from indulging in my category 1 dreams -- things I would buy if I still lived here. Food usually tops that list.

Take the chicken sausage pictured. Chicken sausage is one of the foundations of my cooking up here.

The prime example is my favorite macaroni and cheese dish. Sun-dried tomato penne pasta. Onion. Garlic. Fresh basil. Sun-dried -- or fresh -- tomatoes. Chicken sausage -- usually, mango and jalapeño. Topped by a home-made three cheese cream sauce.

When I was here in June, I made some for Darrel. We experimented with several variations. Each one better than the last. Well, with the exception of the cheese sauce where we mistakenly used whole cream and ended up with what looked like vanilla pudding.

I cannot make that particular dish in Mexico. Well, I can with some drastic revisions. There is simply no spicy sweet chicken sausage in my area of Mexico.

And I am fine with that. There are plenty of dishes I can make in Mexico that I cannot make here.

What is consistent between the two countries is shopping, I have the opportunity to dive into crowds of strangers -- each one another conversation possibility.

That probably says a lot more about me than my preference for chicken sausage.

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