Nowhere but Home by Liza Palmer

Author:Liza Palmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-02-19T05:00:00+00:00

16

Cabrito stew, cabrito kebabs, grilled cabrito, cabrito chops, and pork tamales

I spent all Saturday starting to experiment with the next last meal’s recipes while Cal watched TV. Shawn called last night and said that the inmate’s grandmother was from the mountain area just outside the city of San Cristóbal de las Casas. As Cal watched the game, I finally finished my research. I nearly lost it when I realized that the tamales from this region use a banana leaf, but I managed to find a small Mexican market just a few towns over that actually sells them. All I have to do is heat them up the day of and everything will be fine. It’s a more difficult version of the tamale, using a light, sweet mole in the pork filling, but it should be delicious.

It’s now early Sunday and I hear Cal moving around the house in the haze of early morning. I check the clock, it’s just after six. I slept okay, but still had nightmares. The kinds of nightmares in which you’re running through Escheresque mazes and never quite find a way out. It’s been only two days since I made my first last meal. I have a little over a week until my second one and I’m already obsessing, as evidenced by my pork tamale and cabrito cook-a-thon yesterday. I need to busy myself. I flip off my sheet and walk out into the house. Cal’s in the kitchen trying to stem the tide as an avalanche of plastic bags filled with my tamale experiments tumbles out of the freezer.

“I just wanted some ice,” he says, picking up a couple of bags and stuffing them back inside the already full freezer.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I say, picking up the remainder of the bags and finessing them back into the freezer.

“First you make me an omelet and don’t tell me until after I’ve finished that I just ate goat,” Cal says.

“But when you fell for the goat soft tacos later that day . . . ,” I trail off. Cal shudders.

“Where do you even get goat?”

“I found this great butcher who had all this different stuff,” I say.

“Different stuff? Wait, I don’t even want to know. I’m sure I’ll be tricked into some more experiments soon enough,” Cal says, finally getting that glass of water.

“You’re up early.” I say, smiling. Cal rinses his water glass and places it on the dish strainer.

“So are you.”

“I’m going on a run; you’re welcome to join me,” Cal says, walking out into the dining room. He sits down and starts lacing up his gym shoes.

“I think I will, actually,” I say, surprising even myself. This is exactly what I was looking for.

“Really?” Cal says as I walk down to my bedroom. Merry Carole walks out of her bedroom, cinching her robe tightly around her.

“What’s going on around here?” Her voice is a yawn.

“Aunt Queenie is going with me on my run,” Cal says.

“Really?” Merry Carole says, stopping in my doorway as I pull out an old pair of sweats from a dresser drawer.

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