One of the common themes of expat life is the things you miss from your old life. For Americans, Mexican food and NY Jewish food (notably bagels and reuben sandwiches) rank fairly high on this list.
Even though my home state of Maine could not be further from the Mexican border, and I didn’t eat Mexican food until I moved to Boston, I quickly learned to value a well-wrapped burrito. And fresh bagels were a mainstay of every trip to visit family in New Jersey, from the time I was first old enough to lick the cream cheese off my bagel and ask for more.
So we were delighted to hear a few weeks ago that fellow SCAdians (reenactors), a group with a high proportion of expats, were cooking up a big Mexican feast and wanted us to help them eat it.
The food did not disappoint. Sooo good. I wanted to keep eating until I exploded, but I refrained.
Which is to say, I didn’t actually explode, so the laws of cause and effect imply that I must have refrained a little. I only ate one really enormous burrito. It took all afternoon.
The company was excellent. Our friends have very interesting friends.
And the location was to die for. Those of us who currently reside in cities were very jealous. The estate was once a dairy farm, with the cows housed in the courtyard. Now there’s one apartment and the main complex, which is used seasonally and on weekends (not for dairy farming). Isn’t it spectacular?