Enough Habañeros to Kill a Reasonably Small Army

I've always thought of the habañero pepper much as I do the jaguar or great white shark -- they're all pretty to look at, rather dangerous, but not really my problem. 

Sure, I had a run-in with habañeros in high school, but I foolishly sought that out (when you don't know what these chilies can do, a recipe for habañero salsa with equal parts chilies and tomatoes doesn't seem so problematic). Sure, habañeros are hot, but I'm just not going to stumble across these piquant little fireballs in my sheltered, everyday American life.

However, during my time in Mexico, I had to actively avoid habañero peppers. Perhaps one in three of my meals came with a roasted habañero chili on the plate, whether as garnish or an integral part of the meal I'll never know, because my Spanish language education (generally adequate for my Yucatecan adventure needs) did not cover the word for garnish (it appears to be "guarnicion").   

Moreover, I came across this impressive stand at el Mercado Municipal in the city of Mé rida:

It hurts just to look at. Also, the price is five pesos per bag -- about 38 cents. Cheap!

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Hungry Sam is Going to Mexico! (And Will Bring Back Xtabentun)

Tomorrow, I depart for my first big boy vacation since entering the workforce! I'm crossing a line item off my life's to do list: Visiting, exploring, and climbing Mayan ruins in the Yucatan. 

Not my photo...yet. From Wikimedia Commons.

Though not the primary impetus, there's not a doubt in my mind that I'll be seeking out odd dishes and culinary experiences as well as bringing back interesting foods, coffees, and liquors for future enjoyment -- I look forward to sharing this with you, loyal readers.

Among the gustatory gifts and savory souvenirs with which I'll inevitably return is a bottle or two of a very special liqueur: Mayan Xtabentun.

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Gratuitous Jokes about My Divorced Eggs

I'm not totally insane. I know that most of the foods and dishes I blog about wouldn't amuse a normal person as much as they amuse me.

However, the whole table at Mexican brunch (Don Jaime's in Mt. Pleasant) on Sunday found some humor in this dish:

It's called Huevos Divorciados. Yes, that's right, Spanglish speakers: I ate "divorced eggs" for breakfast.

Now, this might seem perplexing if you don't know the backstory to this sad yet delicious state of things. But I think I've pieced it together.

Warning: I'm about to take something moderately amusing way too far.

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