Indigenous Food

Here in Tucson, you might think that there would be no indigenous food left. After all, this IS America. But the fact is, out here, people are using the flora and fauna to create certain delicacies that it is my duty to write about, to whit: the prickly pear.

I was fortunate enough to receive an appreciation gift of a jar of prickly pear syrup. It was profoundly delicious. The color of the syrup is fuchsia on the plate-and a deep light pink in the jar. The syrup is watery, but is not entirely lacking in viscosity. It is, in short, a way to disguise a poorly engineered pancake (which I confess I baked myself, in the oven, when I discovered the batter sticking to the frying pan with great tenacity. I decided: non-stick cookie sheet). The pancake, flat and WAAAY too salty, tasted fine under the prickly pear syrup.

In other news: I was recommended a restaurant for its clam chowder. The chowder in question was very good. There was just a hint of bacon and the potatoes were absolute perfections. The problem? The small size would have fed a family of four. I ate a fourth of it.

The fish taco I had ordered was mediocre, but then I had discovered that they had put the tarter sauce ON THE SIDE! (Who DOES that?!) I ate most of the taco sans tarter! Dreadful! (I love tartar sauce!)

I remain,

Hilda Stinson