I have a horny wanderlust, always insatiable, perpetually unrequited. Oh sure, I’ve had my trips on locations: from the gentler parallel reality of Canada to the third world intensity of Jamaica. And vacations to the usual European locales – Italy, Ireland, Scotland, England, France for business and pleasure. But I want moooore! Although currently landlocked until the dollar heals, business prospers, travel improves, and fuel cheapens, I can best trip out by visiting friends from other cultures.
I’ve been mentoring three wonderful Inner City Mexican girls, Angelica, Rocio and Isabel, for the last few years, and going to their home for a meal makes experiencing foreign climes so easy. No passport and photo updates, no shots, no foreign dictionaries, no packing and repacking. All I need is an appetite. I love to eat. And one of the things the De Los Angeles family loves best is watching me do that.
When I first started hanging around with these lovely Latinas, their Dad, Lucio had just gotten a job as cook for a Oaxacan take out place. He longed to show off his moles and marinades to me. My first cook-out on the verandah of their Crenshaw apartment was a celebration of politeness in translation on both our parts. The girls speak English, their mother Apolonia does not, and Dad has a limited, food related English vocabulary, and I a limited Spanish lexicon—he speaks recipe and I speak menu.
Hence every conversation takes twice as long, with the girls doing their bilingual best to recreate my inflections and sweet but smartass remarks with their original intent intact while I facialize my good humor. But the sweet feelings passing amongst us during the translating and my eating is so full of mutual respect and enjoyment, that I think a common language might lose something else in translation: “contact,” as Fritz Perls explains it, “the appreciation of differences.”
That first shy day that I came to their modest home (the girls share one bed, the parents a fold out couch), as they served me a lamb dish marinated in chilies, the stun gun of spices, I was soon in tears…of pain. I made it look like misty gratitude, which it was, in part--gratitude for their pleasure in generosity, for the paper napkin in which I secreted morsels of the slightly chewed food for their dog, my trustworthy mule, eagerly awaiting his role in concealing the contraband.
I smacked my lips loudly over the rice and beans, which I ate in profusion and appreciation and overdosed on water and mango puree. I deflected attention by saying pithy American things, and during the undercover stolen moments while Momma watched her daughters’ mouths raptly to learn what the hell I was babbling about, I’d spit and drink and smile and feign swallowing.
After a few years of my visits, luckily, Lucio finally got a job as a cook for a Kosher catering firm, and began to show off his brisket, still a little caliente for my tongue. But from my now more honest reactions, he began to understand the wussy tastes of the Russian/Eastern European expatriates, untrained for the intensity of his exotic, tropical flavors. He’s gotten really good at making things mild for me, without judging me…a true gift that has brought us all closer.
For my birthday this year, the De Los Angeles family made me this special chicken and wrote out the ingredients for me so I can recreate it at home, then enjoyed sitting around watching me digest it and their photo albums from Oaxaca, with genuine lick smacking appreciation. I share it here with you. Let’s go to Oaxaca.
Chicken Ole
1 3-4 lb. chicken
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large chopped onion (one cup)
2 cloves garlic, minced.
1 10 oz. can tomato puree with no added salt or sugar
1 C. freshly squeezed orange juice
1 teaspoon grated orange rind
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
8 small, red skinned potatoes, halved
3 medium sized red peppers, thinly sliced
1 fresh green chile
Preheat oven to 450°F.
Heat oil in large skillet; sauté onion and garlic til tender. Add tomato puree, orange juice, orange peel, cinnamon, thyme and salt. Cook 10 mins., stirring occasionally.
Broil the green chile, turning it once til all its skin blackens, then wrap it in foil for 5 minutes. It should peel easily when it cools.
Meanwhile, sprinkle pepper on the inside and outside of the bird. Place chicken in a large casserole, arranging the potatoes around the bird. Remove the seeds from the chile and mince. Add to the sauce, then stir.
Pour the sauce over the chicken and potatoes and cover with foil. Turn down the oven to 350°F and bake for 45 mins. Add the red pepper, cover, cook another 45 minutes, til all is tender.
Take the foil off for the last 15 mins. so the skins crisp.
Serve with mariachi music and enjoy!