Cinco de Mayo

As is evidenced by the increasingly snug groping of my pants and pencil skirts, indeed, I am growing soft in my old age: Cinco de Mayo, a celebration that traditionally for my superficial observance would be inundated with cheap tequila and pathetic franchised corn chips, was instead passed in beautiful and simple tranquility, with my family, imbibing good, rich drink and food. After a truly whirlwind experience in New Orleans, the Crescent City, I was looking forward to an afternoon of cuddling Winona and bouncing her on my knee as she giggled. Despite gorging myself on a plethora of fried delicacies while in the south, I was also looking forward to the enchiladas, so artfully prepared by Elizabeth. Margaritas were served in the classic and true style: shaken, up, and without the now-familiar salt rim. Unfortunately, aforementioned cheap tequila, a liquor rampant and wanton among school campuses, in cahoots with sour mix often give the margarita a sullied reputation; it is a shame, for it is a refreshingly delightful cocktail and one of my favorites, when properly prepared. Our enchiladas featured fresh rotisserie chicken meat, shredded to perfection, complemented with plenty of cheese and just the right proportions of hot jalapenos, a delicious amalgamation of creaminess and heat. The atmosphere may have been relaxed and tame, but, the tastes were certainly unbridled and wild.