I remember every Sunday, going to Abuela’s. All my cousins would be there. We’d have a BBQ in the afternoon but the true star was the menudo. No, I’m not talking about Ricky Martin’s old boy band. I’m talking a savory Mexican soup that could convince Trump to shut up about building a wall. Made with hominy, cow tongue and a spicy broth that I would dip my Abuela’s handmade tortillas in, this was truly a meal in itself. My mouth’s watering now but I wasn’t always a fan of this soup that could raise the dead.
Growing up with my mom primarily in my younger years left my palate…very Caucasian. Sorry, Mom, shit was bland. Your lasagna still kills though. I wasn’t used to spices or any seasoning really. So, when she married my Mexican dad, my mouth had a bit of culture shock. One of the first things that I had to get used to was citrus and spice in everything. Every Sunday, we’d go eat as previously mentioned, after church, and there would always be this huge pot of menudo. Every week, I’d say no. Finally, my cousin, Tony told me to dip a tortilla in there and try that.
So, I dipped…and dipped. This was amazing. Is this what brown people food tastes like?! Mom, have you been hiding seasonings? I kid but the flavors that bombarded me were amazing. I can still taste the lemon juice hold hands with the broth and run down the yellow brick road into my stomach. As long we went to Abuela’s on Sunday, there would be menudo.
As I grew older, I’d go to church less and less. My Saturday nights would grow longer and bleed into my Sundays. There is one thing I know, if I felt under the weather, hungover or just wanted a great Sunday morning, I’d go to my Abuela’s house and have some menudo.