Sunday: Mexican candy shopping. Mexican candy is like Indian candy, all sour and spicy enough to make your jaw hurt. I am especially addicted to tamarind in its various candy-incarnations and that sour powder made of citric acid called Acirrico! I could eat this stuff as a meal, just licking it off my fingers. It's so gross and tart and makes your whole face pucker up. I love it.
I also love Mexican food stores. Bins of chilies and lentils and pickled carrots, rows and rows of inconsistently-packaged spices. Families speaking a mixture of Spanish and English. Vendors making pupusas and tamales on the sidewalk. Men holding hands with their children and carrying around Snow White pinatas. There's something happy and festive about the entire thing. I could do without the crying babies, the crowds, the pushing and shoving, but I have to admit it, ethnic shopping centers feel like home.
I love Olvera Street too. Even though it's kind of become a Mexican Disneyland. I had befriended the candy vendor here, who for months sold me a super-powered citric-sour blend until one day, I returned for more and he informed me that it had been pulled from the shelves because of a lead contamination.
"I guess that's what made it so good," I told him.
"There is always a price to pay, Miss," he offered.
No comments:
Post a Comment