Taco Bell doesn't deliver turkeys, so Americans of Hispanic descent such as myself and my Prima Suprema cousin in Topeka, KS., cook our own birds just like every other citizen.
She likes sweet potatoes like my mother. I hate them. I'm a mashed potato-man.
She makes a cranberry relish. I love to eat cranberries straight out of the can. And they're cancer fighters.
The list of culinary similarities goes on. The same smells in Anglo kitchens will sweeten the same kitchens in Hispanic households. We Americans -- no matter our race, creed or ethnicity -- have more in common that we know.
Now Christmas is another story for Hispanic households. But I'll post on that next month. Tamales, anyone! YUMMMMMMMM!
This year is the first Thanksgiving in quite a while that I won't be making the mashed potatoes and my famous giblet gravy. But that's all right. My kitty cat, Mijo, has drawn up a menu heavy with shrimp. So we'll be feasting like beachcombers.
Mijo is preparing to start his own political blog posts on the change coming to Washington. He believes an African-American president does not represent enough revolution. He states that more input from very independent and tongue-cleaned cats is needed to change this nation for the better.
His slogan: Cats Rule! Dogs Drool! If there is a political issue you'd like him to address, please send it to this post.
Mijo is Spanish for "dear one". And he certainly is that and more to me now in my life, even if our household is going to smell quite fishy today.
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