The hidden dangers of lamp posts

An almighty crash woke us in the early hours. Inevitably we were startled, convinced that it was the aftershocks of the earlier earthquake and we began preparing to evacuate. But then we heard a voice outside claiming that he had only tried to fix some ‘political propaganda’ to the lamp post when it fell over, and another voice begging our neighbour not to call the police and to please remain calm. It was 1.30am!

Mexicans love politics. Local and general elections are to be held on 5 July, so campaigners, from all parties, are now out in force and apparently they can be found roaming the streets at all times of the night.

Later in the morning, as we surveyed the damage, Jaime explained to me that lamp posts are the ideal struture and height for candidates’ posters. Political campaigners often like to work at night; not, as I had suspected, because it is illegal to flypost, nor due to any fear of meeting the opposition, but because there are less people, cars etc to hinder your movements. (In addition, this kind of campaign work is often voluntary, so many party supporters  fly-post on top of a full-time day job).

But for a street lamp to just keel over in this way still seems inconceivable to me. And what the hell happened to the unfortunate individual whose ladder was leaning against the post when this occurred?

On closer inspection, we could see that the base had rusted, but I guess Mexico’s frequent earth tremors also cause untold damage that remains unseen; only becoming visible as the result of an accident like this that can happen days, weeks, or even months later and at any time of day or night.

I can’t help but be reminded of some Mexican politicians. A lot of the rot remains hidden, only coming to light at unanticipated moments, when leant upon,  or during the notorious election campaigns when the gloves come off. And the eruption, when it happens, is not dissimilar to that of an earthquake.

Another day, another quake

On Thursday, the UK was criticised for its handling of the H1N1 outbreak – it has overtaken Spain and now has the most confirmed cases in Europe – and it was suggested that Britain may be hiding a much larger outbreak. The same criticism was levelled at Mexican officials last month. Mexico city, meanwhile, is officially “back to normal”. On Thursday night the city mayor lowered the swine flu alert level from yellow to green as there have been no new infections for a week. No more masks; one can go about one’s daily business as normal and ride the peseros again with abandon. But it seems that Mother Nature cannot resist delivering a parting shot.

Early afternoon on Friday, another earthquake registering 5.7 on the Richter scale hit Mexico. This time I was caught, quite literally, in a state of undress. I was having a massage to alleviate some muscular pain when the quake struck nearly throwing me off the table.  I was with Erica, that indomitable chica, who just carried straight on as if nothing had happened. When I asked for confirmation – forgetting suddenly the word for earthquake (terremoto) and asking instead if it had been a tremor de terra – she took a quick look outside, shrugged and told me to watch the vase of flowers, perched precariously above my head, for any sign of aftershocks. From now on, I’m going to call her my hermana en crisis (sister in crisis).

It has to be said, although Erica’s calm response was admirable, an earthquake isn’t great for relaxation and I emerged in more pain – my muscles tensed for flight – than when I arrived.

The epicentre was in Puebla, but again the tremors were felt strongly in Mexico city. Many offices and buildings were evacuated. Poblanos would have been understandably nervous having suffered a disastrous earthquake almost ten years ago in June 1999 whilst Chilangos will recall the devastation wrought by the September 1985 earthquake.

Two earthquakes in a month!

Coming from a tiny island in Western Europe, everything in this country is writ large: As well as the earth tremors, the sun is relentless in its intensity; the mountains over-shadow everything; the volcanoes are awe-inspiring… It is no wonder that Mexicans are naturally superstitious.  At every turn God, or some other higher being, seems to be sending a message. Whether it is the virulence of the virus that swept through the country targeting the young and healthy; the terrifying thunderstorms (common in May) and torrential rain that floods everywhere in seconds; or the jagged flashes of lightening that at night illuminate everything for miles around and immediately cause power cuts; or the deadly scorpions that appear to lurk in every dark corner.

It is all food for the imagination which, in turn, nourishes the soul but, to be frank, these damn tremors are becoming a little too regular for my liking.  However, Britain has its own horrors including the threat of terrorism and rising gang violence. When I shortly leave DF for London will I be exiting one drama and walking into another; leaving a city in recovery for one dealing with an escalating flu crisis?

A dog’s life

For the past few nights I’ve been woken by the howling of a dog. And it’s not just indiscriminate yowling, but a really heart-breaking sound that breaks the quiet of the night, makes you sit up in panic and refuses to let you rest until it subsides. I haven’t yet been able to locate the dawn howler or the reason for the crying.

Most dogs here have a sorrowful existence. And if you hear one complaining, it’s more likely to be caused by pain than anything else. There are literally thousands of strays of all shapes and sizes, wandering the streets. Those that are ‘owned’ are often categorised by a handkerchief tied round their necks, but they often walk the streets as randomly as the rest. The unwanted, unclaimed, dogs have to get by as best they can. This means locating enough food and water (or befriending the right kind of people who will provide this, even sporadically), negotiating the intense and indifferent traffic and finding suitable shelter dictated by the weather conditions (including earthquakes, torrential rain, thunderstorms etc).

Rabies is still present in Mexico, although, I admit that I have not yet met any dogs foaming at the mouth…. The main problem here seems to be that for many families it is too expensive to neuter and spay dogs, so that when, tragically, (although perhaps inevitably in an uncertain economy such as Mexico’s where one week you may not have enough to feed the family, let alone the pets) they are deserted or left at the wayside, their procreating abilities remain intact. A number of charities, looking after homeless dogs, are recognising the extent of the problem and are beginning to offer a free neutering service. (I’m going to research this, improve on my photos, and post further info).

A few years ago, we were walking down one of the many four- lane freeways in Mexico city. My heart went out when I saw a small dog, like this one,  obviously disorientated, walking down the highway – along a stretch where there was no pavement. It was clear that it was only a matter or moments before it was hit. I realised the urgency and was quickly distraught; I began looking for a break in traffic – coming thick and fast – to run across and pick it up. Jaime had to physically restrain me. A few yards further, a few seconds more, and it was all over. It was an emotional moment that oddly has stayed with us both. I know it sounds crazy – what is a strange dog’s life worth to most people, after all – but I felt at the time that it was an omen or premonition of something more terrible. The memory of that dog, it’s foolish sense of purpose as it walked towards certain death, the handkerchief around its neck so confidently waving in the breeze, the eager pants, its semi-erect tail… And when I returned from Mexico, that time, I learned of my mother’s illness.

Burma: Aung San Suu Kyi arrested – please sign petitions

The Burma Campaign, UK

Nobel Peace Prize Winner and Burmese opposition leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, has today been charged with breaching the conditions of her house arrest.  She faces five years in prison after a US citizen reportedly swam across the lake to her home and in doing so violated the ban on the opposition leader meeting with anyone without prior permission from the military junta.

Suu Kyi is currently held in the notorious Insein Prison in Rangoon, with two members of her house staff, under Section 22 of the State Protection Law for “subversion”.  Her trial is due to begin on 18 May 2009 and, if found guilty, she could remain imprisoned for a further five years.

Her house arrest was due to expire on 24 May 2009 and many believe that this is an excuse to keep the leader of the pro-democracy movement behind bars. The junta plans elections in 2010. Suu Kyi’s party won a landslide victory on 27 May 1990, but the military refused to recognise their right to rule and Suu Kyi is prohibited from holding office. Despite being effectively muzzled, after having spent 13 of the past 20 years in detention, she remains a hugely popular figure both inside the country and internationally.

It takes less than 2 minutes to email the UN Secretary General, Ban Ki-Moon and ASEAN leaders urging them to take immediate action to secure the release of Aung San Suu Kyi, and to send envoys to Burma. Click here

Free Burma’s Political Prisoners Now aims to collect 888,888 signatures before 24 May 2009, the legal date that Daw Aung San Suu Kyi should have been released from house arrest. The military junta is notoriously superstitious and the target of 888,888, symbolises the timing of Burma’s largest democracy uprising (8 mins past 8 on 8 August 1988), when over 3000 protesters were massacred.

The petition calls on the UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon to make it his personal priority to secure the release of all political prisoners in Burma. Please sign before 24 May by clicking on petition

Wrestling with saints

In Britain we had The Saint, but Mexico had El Santo.

El Santo and Blue Demon

In the early 1940s, Rodolfo Guzmán Huerta established himself as a professional wrestler. By the 1950s, thanks to television, he was a household name . The allure of his silver mask must have added to his enviable physical skill.

Wrestling was one of the first sports in Mexico to be popularised by TV and this undoubtedly helped make El Santo into something of a legend. His wrestling career lasted for almost fifty years and he also appeared in over fifty movies and featured in various comics. His prowess in the wrestling ring was matched in the bedroom – he fathered ten children.

Lucha libre means “free wrestling” or free fighting and the Mexican style is supremely theatrical. I’ve witnessed the Mexican love of spectacle, so it is not hard to see why the sport took off here and why their wrestling heroes have become such a source of  pride internationally.  I love the fact that Mexican wrestling is characterised by their masks  – lending an air of mystery to this spectator sport.

El Santo was a luchador and his mystique was no exception. He was a true performer who lived by unspoken rules. Apparently, he only ever publicly removed his mask once, on a TV show, just before his death in February 1984.

To be honest, I’ve always thought of wrestling as an overrated, macho sport, and for many years I did not realise that the moves were carefully choreographed. I had presumed it was just more senseless violence for public consumption.

I am not sure what has shifted in my perception, but I have enjoyed learning a little more about this particular folk hero. In the 60s and 70s, Jaime’s grandfather edited many of the wrestling movies in which El Santo fulfilled and sustained his reputation. He’s an appropriate rival to Leslie Charteris’s popular fictional detective. Both had a penchant for disguise. I guess, the appeal is that El Santo’s skills as a wrestler aren’t so dissimilar from the craft of an actor.

Lessons in air conditioning

Although Monterrey was overcast the whole time we were there, the cloud merely served as a thick blanket of intense heat. Gone are the days, in this Mexican outpost, when you might have sat quietly in front of your home hoping to catch the wind as you waited for the sun to set. It is hard enough to relax in any city besieged by these kind of high temperatures, but this is Mexico’s industrial north! I can’t imagine how anyone gets any work done in these conditions. One begins to realise the true importance of starting early and indulging in a long lunchtime siesta. Oh, and the wonders of modern air conditioning, of course, which remain relatively unknown to a Brit.

A famous Mexican poet  actually wrote a poem dedicated to the force of the sun in this particular town, giving us some idea of what it must have been like before the arrival of mod cons.

In Sol de Monterrey (Monterrey Sun)*, Alfonso Reyes describes a childhood where he is ‘dogged’ by the heat of the sun; a time when he did not know

‘any shadow but the glare of the sun’

Yo no conocí en mi infancia
sombra, sino resolana

He translates an acute feeling of oppression when he writes:

‘Every window was sun,
Every room was windows
The corridors bent
Bows of sun throughout the house’

Cada ventana era sol,
cada cuarto era ventanas.
Los corredores tendían
arcos de luz por la casa

Later, he calls it

‘A sea inside my skull
Wherever I may go’

Mar adentro de la frente,
a donde quiera que voy

I too found the heat relentless. I turned the air conditioner to cool and whacked the dial to full. But to no effect. Yesterday evening, I lay listless in my room, amazed at the power of the Monterrey sun to defeat hotel air-conditioning. It was only when we were leaving that Jaime noticed I had set the aircon to maintain a temperature of 35 degrees centigrade.

* SOL DE MONTERREY
No cabe duda: de niño,
a mí me seguía el sol.
Andaba detrás de mí
como perrito faldero;
despeinado y dulce,
claro y amarillo:
ese sol con sueño
que sigue a los niños.

Saltaba de patio en patio,
se revolcaba en mi alcoba.
Aun creo que algunas veces
lo espantaban con la escoba.
Y a la mañana siguiente,
ya estaba otra vez conmigo,
despeinado y dulce,
claro y amarillo:
ese sol con sueño
que sigue a los niños.

(El fuego de mayo
me armó caballero:
yo era el Niño Andante,
y el sol, mi escudero.)

Todo el cielo era de añil;
toda la casa de oro.
¡Cuánto sol se me metía
por los ojos!
Mar adentro de la frente,
a donde quiera que voy,
aunque haya nubes cerradas,
¡oh cuánto me pesa el sol!
¡Oh cuánto me duele, adentro,
esa cisterna de sol
que viaja conmigo!

Yo no conocí en mi infancia
sombra, sino resolana.–
Cada ventana era sol,
cada cuarto era ventanas.
Los corredores tendían
arcos de luz por la casa.
En los árboles ardían
las ascuas de las naranjas,
y la huerta en lumbre viva
se doraba.

Los pavos reales eran
parientes del sol. La garza
empezaba a llamear
a cada paso que daba.

Y a mí el sol me desvestía
para pegarse conmigo,
despeinado y dulce,
claro y amarillo:
ese sol con sueño
que sigue a los niños.

Cuando salí de mi casa
con mi bastón y mi hato,
le dije a mi corazón:
–¡Ya llevas sol para rato!–
Es tesoro –y no se acaba–
no se me acaba –y lo gasto.
Traigo tanto sol adentro
que ya tanto sol me cansa.–
Yo no conocí en mi infancia
sombra, sino resolana.

Otra voz, 1936

Spanish with eggs

We are in the north of Mexico. Monterrey sits at the foot of the dusky Sierra Madre mountains (one of five, known as the ‘Mother Range’); On the other side lies Texas. This industrial Mexican city is home to big business, loved by shoppers and famed for its numerous (meat) restaurants as well as owning some world-class museums.

After an early flight, we were starving, so swiftly dropped off our bags at the hotel, and took a cab downtown to grab some breakfast. I love Mexico’s imaginative approach to the first meal of the day; in particular their various combinations of eggs. A good Desayuno menu usually begins with the promise: Huevos al gusto; eggs any style.

We were to be sorely disappointed by our first morning in Monterrey. We had been told to visit the Paseo Santa Lucia – an artificial river and walkway completed in time for the Universal Forum of Cultures, which Monterrey hosted in 2007 – but a mile down the riverwalk, nothing was open and we had to retrace our steps. The sun continued to beat down on our bare heads and no respite was forthcoming. Even Monterrey’s famous horse and carriages were conspicuously absent, just when they were most needed.

It was only after walking around for over an hour, both dripping with sweat, and with tempers fraying, that Jaime recalled that Regios (Citizens of Monterrey) don’t dine out for breakfast; preferring to eat this all important meal at home with their families. By this point, we had entered one of the city’s main shopping districts where fast food is the order of the day, and any other restaurants are scarce – even the closed ones. I was cursing under my breath, having suspected all along that Monterrey was just one big shopping mall.

This morning we were determined to dine in style.  Mexicans’ legendary inventiveness with eggs also provides a useful lesson in Spanish:

Huevos Benedictine Eggs Benedict will be familiar to most of you as poached eggs and ham on a muffin, smothered in Hollandaise sauce. The Mexican twist is to serve them in a fried tortilla nest with chorizo and black beans.

Huevos Revueltos may be plain old scrambled eggs, but Huevos a la Mexicana takes eggs to new heights, scrambling them with diced tomato, onions and green chilli peppers.

Huevos Rancheros (ranch style) are fried eggs served with a spicy tomato sauce, often accompanied with corn tortillas and refried beans.

Huevos Ahogados, or drowned eggs, is less alarming than it sounds. The eggs are broken into a thin salsa and cooked in the sauce.

But my favourite must be Huevos Divorciados (divorced style):  2 fried eggs sitting atop a tortilla, separated by a wall of refried beans; one is served with red chilli sauce the other with green.

A vegetarian has to remain vigilant, though, even when ordering eggs; on one of my first visits to Mexico I saw a man tucking into what looked like scrambled eggs with some interesting additions. I asked the waiter what the dish was called. Sesos rebozados sounded innocuous enough, so I requested the same. Luckily, I was saved by a fellow diner who had heard me mention that I was vegetarian. Sesos rebozados are cow’s brains, dipped in beaten egg and fried.

Oh, and I must be careful how I use the word and when. Huevos is also slang for men’s testicles!

Murder and Mayhem

Another Mexican journalist has been gunned down. What is so depressing is that his murder took place on World Press Freedom Day. Carlos Ortega Samper, a lawyer and writer for the daily El Tiempo de Durango, was known for his critical reporting on local government corruption and had reportedly been threatened by local officials a few days before he was killed. On 3 May, he was driving home when four unidentified men pulled him from his car and, after a heated argument, shot him three times in the head. According to PEN, just days before Ortega had criticised poor hygiene standards in a local abattoir. Then, on 2 May he claimed that that the town mayor and another local official had threatened him over the article and that he was investigating allegations of corruption by a local policeman. Chillingly, he added that these three men should be held responsible if anything happened to him.

Mexico is now one of the most dangerous places in the world to work as an investigative journalist. Sadly, Ortega’s killing is one of many brutal acts of intimidation causing a pervasive sense of fear and self-censorship amongst media workers. Governments, state agents, and local officials, may not always like what is written about them but murder is the ultimate form of censorship.

Thankfully, there is less chance of that happening to the journalists involved in a similar story gathering momentum in Romania. A recent article in the New York Times tenuously links the presence of Smithfield Foods, Inc. in Romania to the H1N1 flu. (A Mexican hog farm jointly owned by Smithfield, in La Gloria, Veracruz, was at the centre of a recent investigation into the possible link between pigs and the new strain of influenza in humans).

The Romanians are understandably miffed at intimations that the flu pandemic may have originated in their country. Initially the Mexican press, and some officials suggested, that an Asian source was the most likely culprit for what was originally referred to as the swine flu virus. Following the piece in the New York Times, the finger of blame is now pointing towards Eastern Europe. Smithfield’s controversial pig factories are currently the biggest producer of pork in Romania. According to the New York Times: ‘swine fever swept through three Romanian hog compounds in 2007, two of which were operating without permits. Some 67,000 hogs died or were destroyed, with infected and healthy pigs shot to stanch the spread.’ This article, together with Romanian news reports, seems to have sent government officials into over-drive.

As you may have guessed from my name, I have a familial link with the country. I know, from personal experience,  how much Romanians like their meat and, where the faint-hearted might blanch, they tend to relish cooking and eating every single part of an animal. I can imagine how the opportunity for a seemingly endless supply of cheap pork and salami would have been too mouth-watering for them to pass by; they would have welcomed Smithfield with open arms. Judging by the New York Times piece, though, they are now suffering the consequences of selling their souls to one of the giants of American agribusiness.

The plot thickens, but for those convinced that the US pork producer is in some way responsible for the spread of swine flu to humans, this will add grist to the mill. In addition, I suspect that there will be scenes of mayhem in Romanian ministries for some days to come. Hopefully, other than the possibility of positive change for the pigs and local communities, that’s all this expose of pig farms and ‘manure lagoons’, will provoke.

In Mexico, a journalist can get killed for writing about poor hygiene standards in a local abattoir. Romania has its fair share of problems regarding freedom of expression* but thankfully shooting the messenger isn’t one of them. Probably the worst that journalists writing about poor hygiene in Romania’s pig farms can expect is some gentle admonishment  from the health minister.  He has taken pains to point out that ‘not accidentally the owner of New York Times is a Mexican cement giant, who took over this newspaper three months ago’. This is a sly dig  at Mexico’s wealthiest businessman, Carlos Slim, and his 10% stake in the newspaper.

*On 11 June 2008, the Constitutional Court of Romania rejected a measure that would have required broadcasters to air “good news”. God knows who proposed this incredible legislation, but the idea was that television and radio stations would be required to devote at least 50% of their news output to positive stories.

Books, books, books

Mexico’s shut-down has allowed me some quality reading time, offering the opportunity to catch up on some favourite Mexican authors and to research some forthcoming titles to review. There’s more to Mexico than the flu!

This year sees the twentieth anniverary of Laura Esquivel’s homage to home cuisine, Like Water For Chocolate. After her mother forbids her from marrying the man she loves Tita transfers her passion into cooking delectable dishes and finds that she has the ability to infect those that enjoy her food with the same emotions she experienced when preparing it. Since it publication in Mexico in 1989, it has been made into a film and has sold over 4.4 million copies worldwide.

Best of Contemporary Mexican Fiction is a fabulous introduction to short-story writers publishing in Mexico today. Despite its size, I found this collection hard to put down. An added bonus is that it is bilingual – English and Spanish versions can be read side by side. Until recently, the only Mexican works of fiction in translation were by a handful of authors – amongst them, Carlos Fuentes, Octavio Paz and Juan Rulfo – so this goes some way to address the balance.

Of the classics, Paz is generally acknowledged as Mexico’s foremost writer and critic. The Labyrinth of Solitude contains some wonderfully illuminating essays and reflections about Mexico, its people, their character and culture. For a literary treatment of Mexico’s more recent past, spanning nearly the whole of the twentieth century, The Years with Laura Díaz by Fuentes is an enjoyable epic read; If you are interested in the Mexican Revolution, The Old Gringo also by Fuentes, is a fictionalised account of what happened to the American journalist, Ambrose Bierce, who disappeared during the civil unrest. I was also blown away by Martín Luis Guzmán’s chilling account of a casual massacre at the hands of Pancho Villa’s right-hand man. The Carnival of Bullets is now available in English in a newly translated collection of stories by many of Mexicos most revered authors from the first half of the 20th century, Sun, Stone and Shadows. (NB The perfect companion to Best of Contemporary Mexican Fiction)

Rulfo’s 1955 classic, Pedro Páramo, left a lasting impression on me and is said to have been one of the first Mexican books to foreground magic realism — Rulfo proved a key influence on later Latin American writers like Gabriel García Márquez.

For those of you interested in graphic novels, I’m going to slip in an American title about Mexico. Jessica Abel’s La Perdida is about an American girl who goes to Mexico City to ‘find herself’ but hangs out with the wrong crowd. Ernesto Priego – who often comments here and is also a poet, dj, and writer, currently resident in the UK, translated the Spanish edition and makes an appearance. He worked extensively on the character and plot development of the comic book.

Jorge Volpi is considered one of the finest fiction writers in Mexico today, and won the prestigious Joaquin Mortiz prize for In Search of Klingsor. He is only just being translated into English but a title to look out for is Season of Ash due out in the Autumn.

Into the Beautiful North by Luis Alberto Urrea is due out later this month and is a contemporary tale about nineteen-year-old Nayeli’s quest to find the “Magnificent Seven” in order to help save her village from the drug bandidos.

Finally, for serious aficionados of Mexican fiction, Dalkey Archive Press has just brought out the new English translation of Fernando del Paso‘s colossal News From the Empire about the French conquest of Mexico and Emperor Meximilian’ s troubled reign.

All of these books should be available from your local bookshops or online.

May: Stuffed Plantain

I love the fact that in Mexico you eat with the seasons; month by month different dishes grace your table. But my ability to COOK good Mexican food remains untested.  So every month I am going to experiment in these pages.

Today is my last day of confinement, (I sound like a pregnant heroine from Jane Austen)!  I have been playing with a Mexican recipe, that is traditionally from Veracruz, and thinking up substitutes for particular ingredients that might be difficult to source in Europe. Jaime’s mother prepared something similar just before we left and it is truly divine. If you can get hold of super-ripe plantains and have a chance to try out my particular concoction below, please tell me how it tastes and send a picture of the end result.

Working with the seasons, I am going to be publishing monthly recipes. I’m a vegetarian but obviously you can substitute my ingredients for meat. This month Fried Plantain. Apparently in Spanish ‘plantain’ translates as Macho Bananas!  In certain parts of Mexico, you serve particular beans… if you get this wrong, or insist on serving your favourite when they are just not appropriate, it can end in a  divorce.  Ours was a different dilemma: What should be the correct consitency of the mashed plantain. This ended in a heated argument involving a lot of spilt  flour.

Fried plantain stuffed with refried beans and panela cheese

Serves 4

Ingredients

6 ripe (almost black), unpeeled soft plantains

Cornflour

A can or carton of black beans

Or substitute with 100g of black-eyed or red kidney beans, boiled and lightly mashed (if using dry ingredients ensure that they are soaked and cooked adequately)

A small block of Panela (a fresh, mild Mexican cheese) cut into strips – or substitute with mozzarella

Butter for frying

Directions

Peel the plantains and mash together in a large saucepan.  Add 3 tablespoons cornflour to the mix.

Melt butter in a frying pan so that it is sizzling. Because the mixture is so moist the trick is to add each batch of stuffed plantain as soon as you have prepared it.

Divide the plantain dough into roughly the size of a small fat, banana. Make a shallow indentation down the middle of each with your finger and fill  with either strips of cheese or beans. Immediately add to the frying pan of hot butter. (You can shape further whilst frying and flatten slightly with a wooden spatula to ensure the mix cooks all the way through). I use the rounded sides of the pans to help make a banana shape. The first few times they will probably look like squashed bananas, but i guess, with time, this improves. The stuffed plantain should be  browned  until crispy on both sides, about 5 minutes.

Drain off any excess oil and serve with tomato salsa, sour cream, guacamole, Mexican rice and/or a crisp salad on the side.

Buen provecho!