Viva Mexico

There are no good Mexican restaurants in Germany.*

Apparently, there's a decent one in Munich that ex-pats mention when they take personal offense to my critique ("And who cares if you can't get Mexican? Look at the health care system!") but I suspect it's an urban legend. And I do care that there's no place where I can consume 1,000 calories via sour cream and cheese in my urban dwelling. That's important to me.

So I was thrilled on Wednesday when E snuck us in to a press-only PR cooking party sponsored by the Mexican tourism offices in greater Germany. The premise: 15 journalists were invited to a test kitchen where we formed teams and then had a Mexican chef (who married a German man) lead us through the cooking and consuming of 9 dishes. We made tortillas from scratch, guacamole, mole, Cebiche, galletas, tequila spiked mangoes, and a bunch of other dishes I can't remember. I can't remember because the kind people of Mexico greeted us at the door with aprons and a glass of Winter punch, a rum concoction, followed by bottles and bottles of red wine. We arrived at 6:30 and crawled out of the facilities at midnight, fully stuffed and warmed by real Chipotle chilies. It was the best Mexican food I've ever had, but what was more fun was the fellowship experienced between E and I and the Mexicans. They immediately sniffed us out as Americans and then proclaimed, "We are the same!" and gave us hugs. They totally helped us cook more than the other teams and gave me a thumbs up when I, in typical American fashion, loudly ripped open a bag of chips at the start of my cooking (I was hungry, I saw something that looked like Tostitos). They also told me I needed a cast-iron tortilla maker. I made a note of it, because I take my Mexican food consumption, and my fellow Americans, very seriously.

*Germany has the following: Good Turkish food, good German food, good French food, good Italian food, good Japanese food. That's it.