Grits and Tamales

Life in the Deep South, by Gabriel Aguilera

Huevos sin chorizo in the morning

Like many middle class Mexican-Americans, I wake up and after a shower I stuff some huevos into a soft warm flour tortilla together with my French roasted coffee. This morning, as I sizzled said huevos, all I could think of was some chorizo to plop into my cazuela that right there and then would have made for a perfect breakfast that might have been enough to make me stop thinking for a few seconds about the world that seems to me a little bit darker today. This week I’m going to find real chorizo somewhere, even if it means driving up to Birmingham where I know I can get it.


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