Mexican Independence Day begins at midnight -- the bridging hour between 15 and 16 September.
This week will be the 199th anniversary of Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla's declaration of war on the colonial overlords of Spain -- and his call for the people to rise.
The original conspirators envisioned an orderly uprising of all The Right People. When that plan was outed, Hidalgo urged all Mexicans to rise in revolt. And they did. The Right People were appalled at the ensuing bloodshed. Apparently, in the omelet process, many eggs contain more than yolks.
Today, Mexicans do not round up the Spanish and Criollos living in Guanajuato and massacre them in honor of the 1810 massacres.
One thing they do is eat. And the traditional food for Independence Day is Chiles en Nogada --poblano chiles filled with chopped meat, fruits, and spices, and topped with a walnut-based cream sauce and pomegranate seeds.
The color combination sets a patriotic motif based on the Mexican flag: the green chili, the white nut sauce, and the red pomegranate seeds. Though, my WASPy eyes catch glimpses of Saint Nick.
I had never tried this dish. Because it is difficult to make, it shows up seasonally. And this is the season.
When I received an invitation to attend an early Independence Day party in La Manzanilla on Monday night, I grabbed it.
Mind you, it would mean violating the first rule of driving in Mexico: Don't drive at night. Plus two corollaries: Do not drive when tired; do not drive through hills in a lightning storm.
Laura runs an eating establishment on the beach called Lora Loka. When I first visited La Manzanilla in 2007, I had my first dinner in her place. I have been a regular since.
But tonight was about as hometown as you could wish. There were about 16 diners -- who chose either the chiles or a shrimp dish. The highlight of the evening was Laura singing some folk tunes accompanied with her dancing.
My chile was delicious.
And because I survived my tired drive through the lightning-sparked night, I was wondering if I could convince Laura that the dish looks enough like Christmas to slip in another one in three months' time.
This week will be the 199th anniversary of Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla's declaration of war on the colonial overlords of Spain -- and his call for the people to rise.
The original conspirators envisioned an orderly uprising of all The Right People. When that plan was outed, Hidalgo urged all Mexicans to rise in revolt. And they did. The Right People were appalled at the ensuing bloodshed. Apparently, in the omelet process, many eggs contain more than yolks.
Today, Mexicans do not round up the Spanish and Criollos living in Guanajuato and massacre them in honor of the 1810 massacres.
One thing they do is eat. And the traditional food for Independence Day is Chiles en Nogada --poblano chiles filled with chopped meat, fruits, and spices, and topped with a walnut-based cream sauce and pomegranate seeds.
The color combination sets a patriotic motif based on the Mexican flag: the green chili, the white nut sauce, and the red pomegranate seeds. Though, my WASPy eyes catch glimpses of Saint Nick.
I had never tried this dish. Because it is difficult to make, it shows up seasonally. And this is the season.
When I received an invitation to attend an early Independence Day party in La Manzanilla on Monday night, I grabbed it.
Mind you, it would mean violating the first rule of driving in Mexico: Don't drive at night. Plus two corollaries: Do not drive when tired; do not drive through hills in a lightning storm.
Laura runs an eating establishment on the beach called Lora Loka. When I first visited La Manzanilla in 2007, I had my first dinner in her place. I have been a regular since.
But tonight was about as hometown as you could wish. There were about 16 diners -- who chose either the chiles or a shrimp dish. The highlight of the evening was Laura singing some folk tunes accompanied with her dancing.
My chile was delicious.
And because I survived my tired drive through the lightning-sparked night, I was wondering if I could convince Laura that the dish looks enough like Christmas to slip in another one in three months' time.
