August
2006
Romerican wuz here!
This weekend, the Americans have landed. Or at least one of them.
You see, there is this guy in Brasov, called Sean. A genuine Texan, he has come to live in Romania for reasons unknown to the public (though speculations claim he’s a CIA agent looking for the secret formula of ţuică, a powerful poison used by the locals to knock the foreign invaders unconscious). Sean has a blog which I read since besides being a swell guy, he’s also funny as hell. And intelligent. And takes good pics. And no, he’s not paying me to write this .
Now as we all know, even CIA agents go on holidays sometimes. After succesfully discovering what the acronym WC stands for, and thus preventing the Romanian terrorist organisation of Al-Bladderah from making thousands of foreigners die of embarrasment, he got his vacation and decided to pay us a visit with his trusty sidekick Laura, also known as LemonMouse.
His journey here was anything but uneventful, including a drinking contest with a hungarian overlord in Cluj Napoca, being given wrong directions by enemy agents disguised as passers-by and thus going west instead of south and getting a ride from another enemy agent that almost made him end in the secret military base of Campia Turzii. However, he and his sidekick were unstoppable and landed here safely on Saturday evening. We went on a nocturnal reconnaisance mission around the town and then discussed battle plans for the next day until after midnight.
Sunday morning, we went shopping, as Sean told us they’ll be making tacos. Tacos! As in “emblematic food of a cuisine I haven’t tasted yet”! My mouth was watering in anticipation. The cooking process was something I couldn’t miss, so there I was, crying from the onion, shredding the cheese and grounding the chicken breast while they were doing both the hard work and the fine art. I think I managed to learn how to do it, although I’ll still have to beg for the unveiling of the exact quantities of magic ingredients that combine into that marvel called tortilla.
The food was sooooooooooooooooo yummy. And hot. Really hot. Even though Romerican said he made a mild salsa. (Compared to what? Great balls of fire?) But even Robi, who has a known aversion to spicy food, made an exception and ate the salsa of the taco like it was baby food - because it was just so.damn.tasty.
After we regained our belly-moving capacity, we went out for another walk around the city, almost got attacked by dogs, drank some more beer and stayed up late again. Yeah, we’re that extreme.
They went home yesterday morning. I miss them already.
Congratulations on losing your taco virginity!!!
Mmm….Tacos…..
Mexican food is great. You need to taste all the stuff!
Oh, losing this particular virginity hurt so good
)))
Wow… I never thought that I would meet a person that had never had tacos. You can buy them in the fast food joints around here. I guess I never considered that there aren’t that many Central / South Americans (or Texans) in Romania. That’s what living in America and having people from all over the world around you all the time does to your perspective. But, please make me feel better and tell me you’ve had pecan or pumpkin pie. ‘Cause life isn’t worth living without one of those.
Pecan? Those are some strange looking nuts, right? Nope, never had them. We make pumpkin pie though, so it’s 1-1.
Speaking of never tasting yummy things, have you ever drank elderberry juice?
No, I can’t say that I have. I have had mulled wine in prague last year. Btw, what is an elderberry? It sounds like something you would scrape off a elderly persons butt if they couldn’t wipe. lol. just kidding.
‘ere you go, Apricoco:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sambucus
Ha! I was wondering why Elderberry wine sounded so familiar, and it’s because it was the drink the old ladies in “Arsenic and Old Lace” used to add the poison to.
Also, Monty Python’s great line “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!”
I haven’t tried it, tho’….
Ain’t Wikipedia a wonderful thing? Just as elderberry juice! (FYI, even Fanta makes that flavour over here, it’s called Fanta Shokata)
You must try a Pecan Pie!!! Hubby’s favourite dessert with good reason ..
Just dropping by to say hello and catch up on my reading.
Cheers!
Eh. *to the Bob Marley tune - sing with me!* Nooooooooo pecans, noooooooo pie……
Yeah, when I think of American cuisine, tacos are at the top of the list.
Elderberry Wine was a song by Elton John. Someone told me elderberries are like mulberries, which grow rampant here. Maybe they had no clue. I prefer blackberries, which also grow rampant here.
Miss C, never try to eat them elderberries, for they’ll give you a nasty case of nausea. Just stick to the flowers.
http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,1977,FOOD_9936_20776,00.html
There is a pecan pie recipe to die for. Just try it once and you will be hooked.
Well I will be in Ireland this weekend, do you think that they sell it anywhere in Dublin?
Apricoco: the moment I see them sold in Romania, I’ll try to make a pie out of them. Until then .. nooooooooo pecan noooooooo pie..
As for Ireland - I don’t have the slightest idea. Maybe at the gourmet stores?
Cellania - Funny thing is, I agree with you that tacos rank near the top of “American” cuisine. Cultural conquering and all that.
Apricoco - There is no Fanta Shokata in Ireland, I’m afraid. From my limited travels, it is restricted to only Romania and Serbia(as Fanta Shokata) as well as Hungary (as Fanta Bodza Sokk). It’s a strikingly different flavor, if you could imagine drinking soda pop that tastes like flowers…. darn good stuff.
Shrinkmamma - I’ll have to respectfully disagree with my southern counterparts here. While I think everyone should have a warm slice of pecan pie at least once in their lives, it is not the world’s greatest desert. Pumpkin pie comes a lot closer to that mark…
[…] What, praytell, do I keep inside it? Disappointingly few items. My wallet holds a Texas driver’s license, a Visa card, a business card of a Brasov friend whom I’d call in the event of being kidnapped by maurauding bands of gypsies, and a handtorn piece of paper with the scribbled email address for the brother of a girlie Booterstown doll along with phone numbers for a close friend in Cluj, a brilliant pal in Bulgaria, and my personal psychologist. […]