Lesley Tellez

A dream realized: Whole wheat mamey muffins

April 20, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

As you know, I’ve been adoring mamey lately. I bought another one on Friday at Mercado San Juan (more on that trip later), and I thought: I HAVE to bake something with this. It’s crying out to be more than a breakfast fruit.

Bread seemed like too much work. Pancakes, eh, not feeling them lately. But muffins. Muffins I could do. Muffins barely required any mixing. And my muffin pan was getting a little muffin top-ish around the middle. It needed a workout.

Since mamey tastes faintly of sweet potato (to me anyway), I trolled the Internet for a sweet potato muffin recipe. And bingo. The Wednesday Chef delivered.

Last night around 9 p.m. the sweet, warm scent of baking mamey muffins filled the apartment. I seriously wanted to bottle it and somehow post it on the Internet, just so you could all know. Hopefully scent technology is not too far away.

When they were done, I carefully extracted one from the pan, burned my fingers, split the muffin open and smeared it with butter. LORD. They were moist. Hot. Gently spicy, with just a whisper of ginger. My brain did backflips. This is how good they were. (Also, another sign, when I tasted the batter earlier — because you know, you gotta do that — I wanted to ravish the whole bowl.)

Recipe after the jump.
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How Bryan Adams cured my insomnia

April 19, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

I couldn’t sleep a few nights ago. I dreamt that someone was breaking into the house, and a creaking noise — real or imagined — made me sit straight up in bed. It sounded like footsteps on our laminate floors. Slow, cautious footsteps. Footsteps of impending doom. I got out of bed and checked that our windows were locked, but then my mind was awake, chattering away about the groceries and rice pudding and cinnamon buns and I don’t know what else. I heard Crayton rustling around and thought maybe he was awake.

Me: “I can’t go back to sleep.”

He rustled some more. Then he said sleepily: “Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?”

I’d asked him the same thing a few hours earlier, as a joke, when he couldn’t sleep and went to the bathroom to read. Of course, when I woke up and didn’t see him, I immediately felt frightened. Isn’t it weird how that happens? One day I’m a strong, confident single woman, and the next day, or year, I’m a married woman in a foreign city, an expat wife terrified of robbers’ footsteps.

Now I thought he was kidding. I said yes, sing to me, and tried to go back to sleep. He exhaled soft and heavy like he does when he snoozes, and I thought he’d drifted off. Then, in a falsetto voice:

“Look into my eyes…. you will see… What you mean to me….
Take me as I am… take my life… I will give it all, I would saaac-rifice….”

I laughed and kissed him on the neck. Then, just like that, he was asleep again. A few minutes later I was out, too. Thank you, Bryan. I owe you one.

Maybe this is what culture shock feels like

April 16, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

I’m starting to feel strange when I visit the U.S. I’m… anxious. Uncomfortable. I hate watching home decorating shows, because everyone has a huge home and it seems wasteful. I hate going to Bed Bath & Beyond because I can’t buy anything there for my own home — see the shower caddy photo — and I’m frustrated that I don’t have access to such a store in Mexico. Even watching TV at my mom’s house annoys me, because there are so many commercials, and so many shows. How does anyone have time to watch these shows? There’s a reality show about dog groomers hosted by Jai Rodriguez, for goddsakes. I love me some Jai. But Groomer Has It? Like, really?

I don’t know what to make of this. I feel like the girl in the movie who meets Prince Charming, but seethes to everyone, “I hate him!” because she can’t bring herself to admit that she’s in love.

Really, visiting the U.S. makes me suddenly wish I lived there again, and it gets harder to go back to Mexico because I haven’t completely adjusted here yet. It’s hard to conjure up a “Who cares if we have no water?” attitude while taking a hot shower and drinking glassfuls of Olympia tap water, ya know? Yet at the same time, I can’t stop talking about Mexico to my American friends, and the yummy taco shop near our house, and the tianguis, and the little juice guy on the corner. I feel stuck between both places.

The solution seems to be not visiting the U.S. for a while. Good thing, we won’t be there again until late August. And on that trip, I’m going to go to H&M and that’s it. No BB&B.

Live blogging Obama’s visit to Mexico

April 16, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Since I had to be home this afternoon to wait for the carpenter, I turned on the local news, prepared a steaming bowl of homemade sopa, and decided to live-blog Obama’s visit to Los Pinos from the confines of my family room. Here’s how it went down:

2:13 p.m. The Mexican national anthem is a surprisingly jolly song. Everyone is singing, even Felipe Calderón. Our national anthem sounds so mournful in comparison. When the band starts it up, complete with fluttery flute, Obama puts his hand over his heart and looks somber. He doesn’t sing, but does smile during the “land of the free” part. Oh god, I’m going to cry. That smile! Those ears! Where did this sudden burst of pride come from?

2:17: Calderón just name-dropped JFK.

2:19: The translators are taking forever. Calderón: “We’re a nation that believes in freedom.” Pause. Silence. Translator: “Somos una nación que cree en la libertad…” Or something like that. My Spanish note-taking isn’t so speedy yet.

2:23: Calderón: “We have before us the opportunity for a new era in trust in cooperation.”

2:24: Calderón, new era, blah blah blah. “In order to grow and prosper, we need American investment like America needs the strength of the Mexican labor force.” He adds that this new era will comprise a “shared responsibility” in the fight against organized crime.

2:28: As the translator rambles through Calderón’s pomp, Obama stands politely to the left. I wonder if Obama’s thinking: “I wonder what Michelle’s doing right now?” Because I wonder what Michelle’s doing right now. Maybe she’s watching this on CNN. But probably not the international version, because they’re not broadcasting it.

Calderón wraps up his speech by saying in heavily accented English: “Mr. President, let’s build a new era. Yes we can.” The translator translates the last sentence as “Sí podemos hacerlo.” Oh well.

2:29: Obama is called “El Excelentísimo Señor Barack Obama.” I love it. Love it. I want this on a bumper sticker. Or a T-shirt. To compliment my Michelle T-shirt. (Not joking on that one.)

2:30: Did they get a Puerto Rican to do the Spanish translation? What’s up with all the dropped s’s?

2:31: Obama says he wanted to visit Mexico so early in his presidency because “the bonds between the two countries cannot be broken.” Then he name-drops Chicago, and all of its great Mexican culture. As a nation, he adds, “we’ve benefited from the culture, energy, ambitions” of the Mexican people. “My hope is that the U.S. has had something to offer to Mexico as well.” Uh, yeah…. DOMINO’S???

2:34: Obama applauds Mexico for “courageously” taking on the drug cartels. It’s critical that the U.S. be a full partner in fighting drug trafficking, he says. He casually mentions the Mérida Initiative and stemming the flow of American guns into Mexico.

2:36: Awww. He called Mexico’s performance in the G-20 summit “outstanding.” Wrapping up his speech now. “It’s wonderfully fitting to see the children of Mexico–” [musical interlude in my head: I believe the children are our future…] –“because we are reminded that the reason we serve in government… is because it allows us to offer them a better future…”

He thanks Calderón and smiles a boyish, shy, embarrassed-fifth-grader smile.

So there you have it. Calderón on his tiptoes and Obama not saying much either. Although reinforcing the Mérida Initiative is kind of a big deal. Maybe this means it’ll get more funding.

Update: Obama, at press conference later this afternoon, vows to reduce the flow of illegal weapons into Mexico

*Photo via The LA Times

Mexican Obama fever!

April 16, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Everyone is talking about Obama’s visit to Mexico City. EVERYONE. Even in my Internet-less and TV news-less world, I’ve talked about it with the cleaning lady, the carpenter coming to fix my kitchen shelves, the architect of our building. The photo above shows today’s front-page of Reforma, where an artisan puts the finishing touches on one of the 5,000 latex Obama masks made especially for the president’s visit.

Yes, MASKS. I love Mexico.

“It’s as if the Pope was arriving, or a movie or rock star,” said Abraham Gómez, president of the mask company Morphix Group. He also offered: “Obama is more popular than Felipe Calderon. You don’t see anyone making reproductions of him.”

I wish I could get my hands on one of these masks, but no one knows how exactly they’ll be used. (A gift to the president? A carnival-style welcome from an exuberant crowd?) A city official in Yehualtepec, Puebla, asked for them to be made.

Here’s a peek at Obama’s itinerary, according to Reforma:

— 1 p.m.: President arrives at the Mexico City airport
— 1:30 p.m.: Official reception at Los Pinos
— 8 p.m.: Dinner honoring the president at the Anthropology Museum (where the president will hopefully take a quick tour and have a cocktail, but that’s not confirmed yet)
— Friday at 8:50 a.m.: President leaves for Trinidad and Tobago.

I’m dying to know if Michelle’s coming too — can’t you just see her in a Maria Pinto dress, walking off Air Force One? — but there’s no mention of her anywhere, so I’m guessing she stayed home. Boo.

Pupusas and rain in Olympia, Washington

April 14, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

I’m headed back to Mexico City tonight, carrying way too much stuff from the U.S. (Among my items: quinoa, coffee beans, maple syrup, strawberry-rhubarb jam, a dish drying rack, an old cookbook of my grandmother’s, a Cadbury cream egg.) Someday I’m not going to buy so much. Promise.

A few snapshots from my trip:

The Olympia pupuseria with fantastic tamales de elote

An item I covet from Bed Bath & Beyond. If only I could find it in Mexico for less than $50.

The view from my mom's street

No water in Mexico City, anywhere

April 9, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Everyone’s been buzzing about the latest water news: Mexico City officials said they’re shutting off the taps to the entire city starting today, and lasting through Monday. No one will have water, the newspapers said. Not just our neighborhood in Cuauhtemoc. We still haven’t “officially” had water for a few weeks now.

Our building manager ordered another pipa, which arrived this morning at 5 a.m. Of course the driver rang our buzzer. (The joys of being apartment No. 1.) Crayton read in Reforma this morning that one family who’d lacked water since Monday bathed themselves in a man-made beach in Coyoacan. (Wish I could link it, but Reforma is subscription-only.) Strangely, El Universal is reporting that some places in Cuauhtemoc and Alvaro Obregon still have water. Where is the logic in this?

I’m off to Seattle to celebrate my mom’s 60th birthday, but I’m thinking about organizing a rain dance on my back patio when I get return. Let me know if you’re in.

Is Mexico City turning me into a jerk?

April 7, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Tried to buy beer with my credit card at the Extra convenience store yesterday. The clerk informed me that they don’t take credit cards, and she pointed to the ATM. (As an aside: The very same chain A BLOCK AWAY takes credit cards. But whatever.)

So, I got money. I returned to pay for my beer. The clerk eyed one of my 50-peso bills.

“It’s torn,” she said. Sure enough, a tiny piece maybe half the size of my fingernail had ripped off.

“And….?” I asked.

“We can’t accept it.”

“But it came out of the ATM like that. The ATM in this store!”

“Sorry.”

“And what do I do now?”

“You have to go to the bank and they’ll change it for you.”

“What bank?”

“Any bank.”

Suddenly an old man smoking a cigarette decided to weigh in on the matter. He wore a convenience store uniform too.

“Yeah, we can’t accept that,” he said. “Just go to the bank. They’ll change it for you.”

I gave her another 50 peso bill and received my change in silence.

Walking home, I grumbled about the ludicrousness of this, the ridicularity, the lameosity. (I like to invent words when I’m mad.) Then I realized how flippant I’d been to the clerk. “And now what? What do I do now?” In the Yucatan, I’d raised my voice to a guy at our hotel who’d demanded to know where we got our free Chichen Itza passes. Maybe I’m running out of patience. Has anyone else experience this? Especially people who moved from slower-paced, polite Southern cities?

Crayton, my sweet Alabama-bred husband, suggested that maybe gruffness just goes further here. A French restaurant — an empty one — turned us away last week because we didn’t have a reservation. We’d dined at this restaurant before without a reservation. Walking away, we wondered if it would have been better to chew them out. “Yeah, reservation, right, because you’re so BUSY.”

Or maybe we just need a vacation.

Who’s your mamey?

April 7, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Tianguis vendors love to offer food samples. If they’re not asking, “Que le damos, señorita? Linda? Guapa?” they’re yelling, “Mango! Papaya!” and attempting to shove a piece of it in your face. (As politely as possible.) On Sunday a guy offered me what I thought was papaya — a wedge of fiery sunset-colored fruit with a coconut-like rind. It tasted weird. Sweet, but not too much. The texture reminded me of cooked sweet potato.

“It’s mamey,” he said. Then he asked if I wanted to buy two or three.

I’d wondered about mamey. The name alone always enchanted me. Mah-MAY. Can’t you see that dangling from a palm tree? Or like, doing a rumba dance?

So I bought one. Sliced it open yesterday and found a strange, glassy black seed. It looked exactly like an alien’s eye, from the kind of alien that kidnaps people in the middle of the night. Kind of scary. But it made me love mamey all the more. It’s an alien fruit. A coconut-papaya-sweet-potato alien fruit. Mmm.

Now, what to make with it. Mamey muffins. Mamey pancakes. MAMEY ICE CREAM, PEOPLE.

Nevermind about all that Zen stuff

April 4, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Of course, after declaring to the world that I’m calm, the universe starts poking at my Zen-ness like a woodpecker.

I came home after writing the previous blog post to discover that we had no water pressure. This confused me. Didn’t the pipa arrive at 6 a.m.? Didn’t that mean we should now have water? I asked our new portero, Pablo — or maybe it’s Pedro — whether or not anyone else in the building had pressure. He said he didn’t know. He seemed surprised that I cared so much.

I knocked on a neighbor’s door to see if he had water pressure. He said he didn’t, and he acted bored with the whole conversation, like he wanted to get back to watching TV or whatever. I was like: Does no one CARE that we have no water? Is wanting water an American ideal? How can the Mexicans, and my Argentinean neighbor, be more Zen than I am? Where in the hell are they showering? Are they not showering? I felt tears coming on again, but I pushed them back.

I decided to go to the grocery store. Maybe I was just hungry and that’s what was making me so upset. I would buy the fixings for a fabulous salad — mixed greens, turkey, panela cheese, mushrooms, tomatoes, and maybe fresh sliced mango for dessert — and just wait this whole thing out.

Sure enough, I did feel better on my way back. I ate my salad and read the new Chilango magazine and devoured my mango sprinkled with coconut. A little while later, a neighbor knocked on my door. He said the whole building didn’t have water pressure because of a blockage in the pipes. Folks were coming to clean the cistern early Saturday morning and hopefully that would solve the problem. But that would mean we’d have absolutely no water — not even to wash our hands — starting at 9 a.m. and continuing until at least 1 p.m., he said.

That brings us to today. This morning, before the cleaners arrived, we filled up the toilets and our water bucket, and washed all the dishes. We’ll shower later at the gym. A friend graciously offered to let me do laundry at her house tomorrow, if our water still doesn’t work.

What else can a person do?

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