Lovin' the Garmin

It's so cool. It's so great. Got me to school when I was pretty late. Need proof? Just look at the time. I'm supposed to be in class in 4 minutes. Woops...

Yes, that is snow. In the end of May. Thank you, Utah.

Anyway, I want a Garmin! This is Tam's. I borrowed/stole it for the weekend. It did a great job, it took us to Disneyland and back. See?

Thank you, Garmin. Thank you.

More of the Roadtrip.

Some more rockin' pictures:

I must have this chair! It is so cool!

As is this great old record player.

Annie and I thought this how was pretty sweet.

Great front porch. I love that people restore old pioneer homes.

Anyone want a tuna hoagie?

Annie picked out some scrummy bread. Crumbs all over the car on the way home, I assure you.

Annie is shocked by local signage.

With good reason.

I hollered at Annie in a panic to snap a photo of this awesome restaurant. It involved frantically rolling down the window and leaning out, blindly snapping the photo. It turned out AWESOME. Annie titled it, "Accidentally Dynamic."

Open Road

Annie and I paid Grandma and Grandpa Gillins a visit this week. I'll let the photos do the talking.
Pickles for sale at the gas station in Scipio, Utah. We didn't buy one. But it's an excellent specimen of a linguistic aberration.
Annie worked on some origami. Of course.
And she picked out some gems from the swanky rock pile.
Which one, which one...
Some cool stuff.

These are "The Girls." Misty, arthritic old girl. I knew her in her more nimble days. Grayboy, who is neither gray nor a boy. She's a recent addition, just showed up and never left again. And then Daisy. Oh Daisy. The least hygenic feline on the planet. She craves affection, but no will touch her because she is dandruffy and her hair sheds like it's her job to shed. And she has a snaggle tooth. And she drools. Love you, Daisy.

A Grenadilla in London

I've been a little homesick for London. I miss that alternate universe! Sometimes it seems like it was all a wonderful dream...

Anyway, enough with the sentimental nonsense. Two summers ago, I lived in Quito, Ecuador for three months. While there, I got to experience fresh "exotic" fruit firsthand. I introduced my pallet to a lot of new produce, and some received a warmer reception than others. My favorite new fruit, hands down, was the grenadilla, or the "grenade" as we gringas chose to call it. While in the little village of Hampstead, on the outskirts of north London, I ran across an exotic fruit store that displayed out front, you'll never guess, grenadillas. These are so extraordinary, and there they were in Hampstead Heath! So of course, I had to buy one, and Rebecca and Kate each bought one too because, well, why not? Here's a picture of what this sweet little gem looks like:
Mmmm, right? I know, I know, it looks disgusting. The fruit looks like an orange grenade. The shell is pretty stiff, and sounds hollow when you thump your finger against it. Then break it open, and whoa! "What is this?" In Ecuador, we affectionately called the seed sacs "monkey brains," or "mocos" ("snot" in Spanish). You just have to go for it. You slurp out about, mmm, 10 sacs, and swish 'em around, break all the lining, get the sweet, sweet juice, and spit the seeds. Or swallow if you want. Makes for interesting bathroom experiences later. Here's a photo of moi enjoying my grenadilla inglesa on a park bench. Ay, !que rica fue!

La Gringa

"Gringa" is what I am, but it also happens to be the name of the most fabulous comestible I have ever... comested. Have you had a taco al pastor? If you have, you understand its bewitchment. If you haven't, well, I pity your poor soul. Let me tell you of its goodness.

First, you take a small corn tortilla. You drag it quickly through oil, brown it on both sides, and then lay it in another, sometimes unheated, corn tortilla. These tortillas should be the size of your hand. Next, you take pork, which has been marinated in a secret recipe that I have yet to figure out, and is presently roasting on a vertical spit. Regarding the secret recipe: one taco guy in Cabo San Lucas told me, "Um, it's paprika, I think. Mostly paprika powder. Uh huh." So it's secret. Anyway, shave off some of the spicy meat, directly into the tortillas. Then, take a couple little nicks off the pineapple, which is at the top of the spit. Catch the said pieces of pineapple in the tortilla from above your head, like so:


Then, pile on some cilantro and chopped onion. Oh my gosh. No sauce necessary, the meat is so juicy and flavorful, the cilantro so fresh and fragrant... I like to squeeze a lime wedge over it all, but that's it. MmmMMM!

Okay, so that's a taco al pastor. Are you ready to hear about "la gringa"? For those of you with heart conditions, this may be more than you can bear, so don't sue me if you go into cardiac arrest from my impending description.

Was that enough of a warning? Okay.

So, "la gringa" is all the components of a taco al pastor... BUT BETTER. I didn't think it was possible. Let me explain. Alright, instead of a pair of little corn tortillas, you take one larger flour tortilla. Now, this isn't your grocery store, precooked, smooshed bread sort of tortilla. This is pure lard and flour, baby. You can see through this puppy. It is rich and perfectly chewy-tender. On that base, melt some fresh Mexican cheese. Ahhhh I'm drooling... Next, throw on the meat and trimmings from the regular taco al pastor. Finally, eat. Change your life. My father and my trip to Baja California was all about the food. Wouldn't have it any other way. Scrumptious.