A few weeks past, some friends invited me to an annual Food Festival in Santiago. They had been invited by the mayor and it was quite a prestigious affair. We made a merry group of about 15.
Basically, it was over 100 of the best restaurants from the Monterrey area setting up around the town's center plaza and having a giant buffet.
It was good from every angle. Mild weather, good friends, stimulating conversation, lots of beer and most of all:
Roast Goat. (see below)
THIS is something that you see quite a bit of in Mexico and frankly, it tickles my fancy.
My overactive imagination kicks in and I fancy feasting in the yo'ho days, trencher full of stewed eel and naturally, roast goat. Frothing mug of dark ale in reach.
Obviously, since I'm a chick, I'd have to be the twin sister of the young rebel lord. Fiesty and sought-after.
As we sit feasting and singing bawdry tavern tunes...
my suitors killing each other for my favor, I lean to my brother and inquire as to the fate of the knave, Max.
The evening waxes and wanes and as our entourage leaves I'm confronted by a drunk man who babbles in a strange language that I look like some wench, "Nicole Kidman". I grimace inwardly but ettiquette demands I smile and nod politely. We disappear into the night, while Drunken Buffoon yells "Nicole! Nicole!" after my retreating form.
He is put to death shortly following.
All in all t'was a heap of fun, my belly was full and the memory will last 4EVA.