I often wonder if any of the cool Caucasian peeps who read this blog get offended because I, 1.) point out some curious Caucasian idiosyncrasies, 2.) try to find the levels on which I can identify myself with Caucasians and when I find them, I like to point them out and 3.) I call you Caucasian.
Cuz if you haven't figured it out by now, us brown folks....well, we're different. Sure, there are some American traits that we have in common. But by and large, our daily experiences in life are different due to the prevailing cultural differences.
It can be the simplest things.
Let's examine food, for example. A few weeks ago at our homeschool co-op, we had a "Mexi to the Max" potluck. Yes, I am totally serious, that is what it was called. I signed to bring some shredded chicken and taco shells. I didn't even know where in the grocery store to look for such an item. I had to ask someone for help. A bought several boxes and was on my way. Since they had a overabundance of food that day, my contribution didn't even get touched. So I took it home and that's what we ate for dinner. I didn't put much thought into the taco shells but the chil'rens went wild over them.
"Oooooh! What kind of tacos are these?"
"Oh, mama! These tacos are THE BEST!"
"These are just like Del Taco! Mmmmmmm."
"You should buy these all the time, mama!"
You'd have thought I reinvented the wheel or something. They kept raving over and over again. I think they all ate, like, four tacos a piece. I was amused, to say the least.
You see, we are accustomed to eating tacos this way: you cook and season your lean ground beef, you throw in some fresh garlic and some chopped potato in a huge vat big enough to bathe a small brown child in. The reason you do this is, you will probably have to make enough to feed your family, some aunts and uncles, some cousins, the grandchildren, etc. Then you start your assembly line of spooning the meat into the heated corn tortillas and then sealing them with toothpicks. Then get your oil ready. Once it's hot, you put them big, fat tacos into the oil and fry away. When it is golden brown, you let the oil drain off onto some paper towels. Then you stand guard over the tacos, so no one tries to pick at them or eat one before everything else is finished cooking.
Then you are ready to eat, you have to be careful to pull out the toothpicks and then you can pile on shredded lettuce, chopped tomato, shredded cheese, and some kickin' homemade salsa. And curiously enough, homemade tacos don't need sour cream. Don't forget your spanish rice and your frijoles with lots of melted cheese! Mmmmmmmm.
Now you're good to go.
But these Caucasian-style tacos with the taco-seasoned ground turkey and store bought shells, they were a fun novelty to have. Not to mention easy. I even bought some more boxes when I went back to the store.
I guess you could say this post has more to do with a brown and proud idiosyncrasy than anything. You get so accustomed to doing things a certain way that other methods seem foreign. But come on...we are just talking taco shells here. I'm not having an identity crisis or anything. I'm not turning my back on my people! Get a hold of yourself, Pearmama--they're just taco shells.
Either way, it was tasty. Now...what about hot dogs (in a bun--not a corn tortilla!) and mac 'n cheese? Twinkies and no pan dulce? Just don't ever suggest beans from a can.
That's just sacrilege.
