a bone to pick

If I wanted to capture a herd of northern tourists, I know exactly the bait I would use.  Chicken wings and barbequed ribs.

Local restaurants could survive here on those two items.  As long as the plate is heavy on food and the bill is light in pesos.

Let me confess up front.  I do not understand this fascination with bony food.  I dated a woman who had the formula just right.  She would not eat "complicated food."

That meant no bones.  And not a lot of cutting.  Stir fry was her idea of an ideal meal.  And I think she was correct.

Saturday turned out to be a celebration of "complicated food.  With enough bones in town to build several Catrinas.

First, it was chicken wings.

I must not have been the first person to put "trap" and "chicken wings" together in the same sentence.  The local realtors know temptation when they see it.

So, they gathered together to start a new "tradition."  A chicken wings cook-off and eating contest.  Curiously called "Wings-Up."  Which must be far more clever in Spanish than it is in English.

The organizers convinced several of the restaurants in town to join in the festivities.  And I must concede some of their wings looked tempting.

Of course, it is hard to get past the culinary problem.  Like Oakland, there is no there there.  It is still the same appendage that should be an ingredient in chicken broth.

I then met my friends Lou and Wynn, and Scott and Robin for dinner.  The special, of course, was ribs.

My objection to ribs is not the mess factor.  I am more than willing to revert to Neanderthal behavior.  Smearing my face and fingers with grease and sauce.

What I cannot understand is why anyone would go to all of that effort to nibble off bits of beef that are akin to Oberto jerky.  There is a good reason why a lot of people simply give ribs to their dogs.

And to prove I am not some sort of dilettante, I ordered the ribs as my meal.  After gnawing for about an hour, I still felt as hungry as when I sat down.  Maybe I should have ordered two dozen chicken wings to fill me up.

Food may be the most personal of choices.  And it is obvious I am in a very small minority on this topic.

But I may be the only gringo to escape the bone trap.