Don't get me wrong - GB and I have had good times in all the Latin American countries we've visited. Judging by our girth, the food hasn't been bad either.
I recall with great fondness South America's tart, purple mora (sort of a cross between a large oblong blackberry and a boysenberry). Costa Rica's papayas were delightful. Nicaragua's Flor de Caña rum is outstanding (try the 5-year-old). And nothing beats the tender, delicate texture of Salvadoran rice. In fact, the Central and South American cuisines generally select rice as their carbohydrate of choice. Not that there's anything wrong with it; I enjoy rice very much.
However.
Mexico's tortillas.
Kick.
A$$.
In so many different ways.
By the time The Fox put in at Puerto Morelos it had been over a year since we had last reveled in the pleasure of Mexican food. It had been over twelve long months since I'd enjoyed my last Mexican tortilla (not that GB's homemade tortillas are not enjoyable). It stands to reason that one of the first places we visited when we got ashore was one of Puerto Morelos's tortillerías. Deeply inhaling the aroma of fresh-baked corn masa, we stood at the counter on the sidewalk outside and giddily bought ourselves 2.2 pounds of warm, delectable, corn tortillas - for the equivalent of less than a buck. I told the bemused ladies behind the counter just how terrific it was to be back in civilization where a gal can get a fresh tortilla on practically any street corner. It was then a simple matter to mosey down the street to stock up on fresh fruit and vegetables including poblano chiles and nopales (de-thorned cactus pads), a cut or two of beef, and some (very) fresh chicken.
Soon thereafter it was time for chiles rellenos aboard The Fox, courtesy of The Propane Chef. With hot corn tortillas on the side.
¡Viva México!
m
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