LET’S CHAT ABOUT IT

These pictures are from my friend Izzy’s twenty-first birthday back in September — she’s the brunette sitting next to me. Izzy is from Texas so, naturally, she has a love for Mexican food that compares to nothing I’ve ever seen before. And, of course, she requested to go get margaritas for her twenty-first.

I’ve never liked tequila… in fact, I hate it. College kids love to throw back tequila shots and personally I’d rather die and, as you can see, that mango margarita I’m sipping did not sit well. It may as well have been just Jose Cuervo, salt, and orange food coloring. I have since come around to margaritas — if it’s frozen and strawberry flavored, I can handle it — but tequila shots are still a hard pass from me (except on my birthday when my friend bought me one… what was I gonna say, no?).

Because margaritas and tequila in general are so popular in America, I think people often forget that they are truly a part of Mexican culture and cuisine. If we want tacos and tamales and empanadas to be kept authentic, we should do the same for the drinks too.

Is masking a margarita behind super sweet strawberry syrup true to its authentic Mexican origins? I mean, no, probably not. Honestly, I’m not even sure if flavored and frozen options were an American creation or if I’m just making incorrect assumptions… and that in and of itself seems kinda problematic to me.

Here’s to trying (and hopefully not gagging on) many more margaritas!

LET’S CHAT ABOUT IT

I’m an avid Youtube watcher with tastes ranging from makeup tutorials to David Dobrik’s vlogs — which tend to be more like comedy sketches and are for sure aimed toward younger viewers, but my point is that I’m into pretty much every type of content that Youtube has to offer. High up on that list are cooking and food videos.

Eater is one of the main sources we use in Taco Literacy and I was excited to see it on the syllabus because I had just recently discovered it myself, adding their videos to my late-night watchlist after seeing the one where Brad Leone (my favorite personality from Bon Appetit, hands down) makes Taylor ham (I’m from Jersey, what can I say?).

I usually stick to their Omakase series which focuses on sushi chefs, but when I saw the video above about Fernando Lopez’s tamales, having this class and Mexican food in general fresh on my brain, I didn’t hesitate to click for a second.

Now, I’ve never had a tamale. That might be sinful to even say but I assure you that, after watching this video, I cannot wait to try some.

What I liked most about this video was Lopez’s constant reference to family recipe and tradition. As I’ve said before, I come from an Italian family and I know how important the family gravy recipe is, how special making Christmas manicotti has felt my entire life, and how I cannot wait until my mom’s food becomes my own. Hearing Lopez speak about his family — how the mole tamales are his mom’s recipe and how his dad taught him to mix the dough by switching hands — made me feel nostalgic for my own family traditions.

This video, despite its educational and hunger-inducing subject matter, made me look forward to trying smaller and more traditional Mexican restaurants because they’re ultimately just family recipes being doled out on a larger scale. It no longer seems like just going to get a taco to me, but much more like when someone new comes over for Christmas.

Also, yes, I will be hunting down Factory Tamal and trying that mole tamale because now that I’ve seen it I can’t stop thinking about it, like wow.

LET’S CHAT ABOUT IT

Ah, Chipotle. My most favorite meal and arguably one of my greatest passions in life. I promise that you have never met someone who is more down to argue that Chipotle is the superior Mexican chain than me. I’ve never backed down from someone trying to say that Qdoba or Moe’s is better and I never will — mainly because they’re dead wrong.

Seriously, I love this meal. I eat it once a week without fail (Is it healthy? No. Am I going to stop? Literally no shot in hell) and I’ve gotten the same exact order since I first tried it in middle school: bowl, white rice, no beans, steak (not the carne asada, this is important), no salsa, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, chips and guac on the side.

Is this authentic Mexican food? Well, no.

White as I am, I’m definitely able to recognize that I’d be doing the Mexican culture a great injustice by truly labeling Chipotle “Mexican food.” It’s Mexican food adjacent at best but, in my opinion, it’s got its place amongst the crowd.

While doing my research for this class, as I attempt to try an authentic Mexican restaurant at least once every couple of weeks, there’s one thing I can guarantee: I might not end up trying as many traditional mom-and-pop restaurants as I would like to, but I’ll still be getting my Chipotle regularly.

LET’S CHAT ABOUT IT

Could these tacos that I ordered takeout after a long Friday night be a means of appropriation? Honestly, I have no idea…

Let me start by saying that taking a class called “Taco Literacy” as a senior with only four months left (and counting) of her entire college career is a power move in all senses of the phrase. So on the first day of class — my last first day of class ever, might I add — I was ready to eat some great Mexican food and enjoy my last semester with my best friend Sarah sitting next to me.

However, after the basic introductions and syllabus discussion, the class started to talk about cultural appropriation and what it means. And of course I — one of the whitest people to ever walk the earth and someone who almost never volunteers in class — am the first person chosen to give my definition of cultural appropriation. I stuttered, blushed, and cold-sweated my way through a good-enough response… but being caught off guard (and incredibly awkward in general) didn’t allow me to truly get all my ideas out.

I never really thought of cultural appropriation when it came to food before Thursday’s class. I come from a very stereotypical Jersey-Italian family — so stereotypical that I actually pronounce mozzarella “mutzadel” and capicola “gabagool,” and have never had gravy (yes, it’s gravy, not sauce) from a jar and never will — and I never considered that my non-Italian friends who tease me for my Sopranos-reminiscent pronunciations and then eat spaghetti for dinner could be “culturally appropriating” — and I don’t think they are. So how could food really be culturally appropriated?

For the record, I love Mexican food, it’s been my absolute favorite cuisine for as long as I can remember. If a date suggests going to a Mexican restaurant, I consider him a keeper. But, after this discussion in class, I began to think: Am I, a white girl, culturally appropriating by consuming as much Mexican food as I do and proclaiming how much I love it?

I don’t really know the answer. For me, cultural appropriation walks a line that’s extremely thin and extremely blurry. Participating in parts of a cultural that’s not one’s own can be appropriation if there’s not a definitive respect present. I respect Mexican cultural immensely, I recognize that I am not a part of it and it is not my own, and I truly truly truly love tacos and margaritas. I think that as long as one respects and recognizes their own distance from a culture, it’s not appropriation.

But maybe I’m wrong! Who knows!

Here’s a fun video from BuzzFeed about some undeniable appropriation of Mexican culture to watch while I sit here in uncertainty: