'Mexican is your comfort food,' my wife told me recently. If restaurant receipts in my wallet are any indication, that's true. My father and I shared a love of Mexican food. After I became an adult, whenever it was just him and I eating out together, we would find a good Mexican restaurant. I recall [...]

'Mexican is your comfort food,' my wife told me recently.
If restaurant receipts in my wallet are any indication, that's true.
My father and I shared a love of Mexican food. After I became an adult, whenever it was just him and I eating out together, we would find a good Mexican restaurant. I recall numerous such meals we enjoyed together during his life.
Perhaps the love of this food became rooted within me because of Mary Herrera. She was our neighbor (we attended church with her also) after my family first moved to Cherokee, OK from Pratt in 1968. She invited my brother and me over to her home often. As a young boy, I could hardly get enough of her homemade, hot tortillas slathered in butter, not to mention the occasional full meals we enjoyed at her home.
I must have been in need of some comfort as the year ended, because I have eaten a lot of Mexican food the last few weeks.
I feel fortunate to have a job that takes me to several towns with Mexican restaurants. I am also thankful for a gringa wife who whips up some good Mexican food dishes as well.