the sun began shining again this afternoon. we hadn't seen much of it since early saturday morning, when the heavy clouds dropped low, sending drops of rain down as if they were cats and dogs. it was weather for long sleeves and patricio's flannel jacket, two full days of movies and one of the privileges of being grown up, better even than getting to watch your allowance turn into a salary: spontaneous indulgence, of the gastronomic kind, with no one save a silence-able conscience to say anything to the contrary.
it was a weekend of a word that applies to both husband and wife in the uribe-cooper household, one of my favorites in mexico city slang, since it's one of the reasons i think we were meant to be together. it's a noun that easily morphs itself into different parts of speech, and guzgo is the word. it describes certain people, grown-ups or otherwise, whose heightened senses of sight and taste tempt them to savor all things tasty, especially when those tasty things are known to create tsunami-like sugar levels, or make arteries groan in dismay.
saturday was destined for la guzguería from the moment we returned from the airport. bags documented to houston and goodbyes waved in the wee hours of the morning--sending off patricio's parents with sleepy eyes and affectionate hearts--we slid back into the jetta and splashed through the city's gray streets, toward a late-morning nap for me and a trip to the market for him, whose eyes had grown wide with his cups of airport coffee.
he returned with dvd's and a small, tight bundle of fresh lemongrass. when he pulled a bag of popcorn out from the depths of a kitchen basket, i knew then that it was time to guzguear. we smothered each exploded kernel with chamoy and valentina salsa, eating it by the handful as if it were edmund's turkish delight while adventuring through "the lion, the witch and the wardrobe."
the duck season dvd was then accompanied by cups of lemongrass tea. and then a bag of nestlé freskas, playing along with rita as she made a million wishes, biting through the chocolate to the colored candy centers. watch duck season, and you'll know just why this happened: it made us crave a pizza. and cold corona beer. perfect for watching the next ninety minutes of sports channel lucha libre.
and we had the whole evening ahead of us, with "the wings of the dove" awaiting, along with a stack of tortillas, a round of queso fresco, and a jar of dried epazote. we made quesadillas, eating them straight from the stove top, deciding not to bother with taking them back to the couch and the channel eleven-ed t.v.
it was only day one of our guzguería marathon, eating whatever took our fancy on our trips to the kitchen. and it was intense. today, we discovered spots of valentina salsa on the frame glass of patricio's diploma...on the wall behind the computer.
sometimes nutritious and but never, ever balanced, la guzguería is something patricio and i have been doing on long, unstructured days or evenings since i arrived early last september. he initiated me into the ranks of good guzgas when independence day turned the plaza of tlalnepantla into a labyrinth of carnival rides and tarp-covered food stands.
he asked if i wanted to start out with strawberries covered in sugar and sweetened-condensed milk. i sent him a look of pure love. the idea was delicious, as were the ones that followed, for selections of street food (garnachas, to keep up with the slang)--for pambazos, and cow head tacos (believe it) , and buñuelos drizzled in syrup, and chorizo tacos with a guava soda, and then fried plantains with strawberry jam. it was the best kind of tour through the plaza that evening, and kissing off the sugar from his lower lip, i think it sealed our commitment as much as our wedding vows did.
guzguería and devotion, two things that i now know make a rainy weekend much more palatable.