One year, while Sweetman and I were visiting Captain Ahab and The Nana down in Florida (before children – Sweetman calls them The Ignorance Is Bliss Years), we went out for dinner. We all agreed we were in the mood to hit our favorite Mexican joint.
As we went around the table giving our orders to the waiter, there was a surprise order. Nana’s. She ordered “Fish Tacos”. I choked on my Margarita. Sweetman spewed his beer. We both looked at each other in horror. Ahab just shook his head sadly.
Now, I grew up in sunny South Florida. I ate fish here, there, and everywhere. I did not, however, grow up eating fish in my tacos. This order took me so completely by surprise that I didn’t even know how to process it.
“When did you start eating fish tacos, mom?” And, more importantly, WHY?”
“People change, dear. I really like them. You should try them.”
We agreed to disagree.
By having more margaritas.
Later that night, Sweetman and I awoke to the gentle soothing sounds of The Nana hurling. All Night Long, as Lionel Richie would say.
“It was that Margarita, I tell you!”, she kept insisting.
“Mom, I had the Margarita, too.”, I tried to remind her.
No matter. She wasn’t having it. It just could not be her beloved fish tacos.
That night held many lessons for us all.
The Nana is a horrible liar.
Sweetman and I would never be interested in “trying” fish tacos.
Margaritas are evil.
Take your pick.
So I found it surprising to be having this conversation with Sweetman last night:
“Honey, what do you think about trying… now keep an open mind here… black bean and salmon tostadas, one night?”
And just when I I thought the recipe couldn’t get any worse, he started rattling off the list of ingredients, prefacing almost each new one with “Now, we don’t have to add that one.”, or “That one might not be a good addition.”. He mentioned words like “cabbage” and “pickled jalapenos” and some other things. I think I tuned out after “salmon tostada”, to be honest.
But this is how it goes around here between he, who cooks, and me, who… well… doesn’t.
If he thinks that being adventurous is adding cabbage to a perfectly good tostada, who am I to judge?
Engineers do those sorts of things.
“So, basically, you’re asking me to eat fish tacos?”, I challenged.
“Yeah.”, he admitted.
“Only if you serve it with Margaritas.”, I demanded. “Then, I’ll have a culprit.”
I guess people do change.
And, once again, my mother is right.
*And, though my stomach turns even as I write this, if this is your cup of tea, Sweetman found the recipe for these “Black Bean Salmon Tostadas” here. You’re welcome. Or… I’m sorry.*