Wednesday, November 18, 2009

A Beautiful Deep Fried Pocket Of Cornmeal Dough. Or, My Mom.

On a recommendation by a local, Eddie and I ate at the Red Rooster Cafe in Anthony, Texas tonight. The place was a mixture of American and Mexican cuisine, but all Ed cared about was the Chile Relleno he saw on the menu. I wanted tamales, but since they didn't have those, I settled for a gordita plate; three gorditas, beans and rice. Perfect.

The gorditas were delicious, but the reason I'm writing this post it to tell you a story about my mother. I know, that's totally not where you thought it was going, but the gorditas are what did it. It reminded me of the story.

About fifteen years ago, my mother was an alcohol and drug abuse counselor at a famous drug treatment facility; one where stars went to deal with their problems. While there, she decided to start working out at their gym, as it was made available to the counseling staff.

One day, she was in the gym and there were a few Mexican women in there with her. They were minding their business, working away and talking to each other in Spanish. My mother said hello to them, they returned the greeting and went back to their conversation.

When my mother came home that day she told me, "I met these two ladies in the locker room today. They were so nice, chatting away in their cute little accents. Oh, I just love the Spanish people..."
"They're Mexican Mom, not Spanish. They speak spanish."

"Well, Mexican, Spanish, whatever. They were very nice and I think they thought I was beautiful. I heard them say gordita a few times."


"Mom. Gordita means fat. They were saying you were fat."

My mother looked puzzled. "Fat? Oh no, I think you must be mistaken. They couldn't be calling me fat while I was standing right there. Noooo."

"Uhhh, yeah. Gorda means fat person, gordita is the diminutive version, so they were actually calling you "a little fat". You weren't a total porker in their eyes."

"Humpf," she said.
"Well, it's sort of like a cute version of fat, like for a child. You'd call a little girl gordita and a little boy gordito. They're chubby and cute and cuddly. Like you."

She smiled. By that definition, I don't really think she minded being gordita. Beautiful? Chubby and cute? Same thing in her eyes.

And in mine too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A Foxy Furry Little Friend
The One That Got Away
Don’t We All?
Miss Singular

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

LMAO! That is so like your Mommy! Give my best to her and Frank.