When I was in my late teens, early twenties I felt I had an endless supply of magic moments to reach for like candy in the back pocket of my Levi's jeans. And to be fair, I did have an awful lot of them and hopefully it's not over yet. I guess I like reminiscing. Looking at old photos, remembering I want to say, times of grace. New science says the past is still here, somewhere. That it doesn't go away at all. Maybe we know that inherently and some of us go to to where it still exists and get in it like a hot bath. Let it surround us and feel it again, for the first time so to speak. The first time you met someone, that feeling you got when you just knew they are going to be very special and undoubtedly change your life in some mysterious way. Food! I remember the dang
lighting when I ordered my first Spaghetti Supreme and how the fluorescents hit it when the waitress brought it out in that silver baking dish in the back dining room of the Pizza Hut. I remember sneaking downstairs and smelling my mom's ham in the ovens we kept in the basement she used only for the holidays. I remember eating the best Chicken Mole on a paper plate at my brother David's house that his wife made. So many enthralling instances. I'm not unhappy in the present, any more than usual I should say. I just happen to also ache for the past. How can you not? You already know how it turns out!
I used to eat pork and I love it, almost any way you can cook it. I had some on this night, a cajun rubbed chop that I lathered on my cool refreshing green apple tomatillo sauce.
And then, because it was just so dang memorable, I had it again the next night on a Mexican pork stir fry accompanied by corn and zucchini.
Now, thinking about this dish weeks later, the pork with that sauce on top, how they complimented each other so well makes me want to write a damn country song.
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