Only a Texas transplant truly appreciates the rarity of good queso north of the homeland.
Though many I know judge – and harshly – the quality of a restaurant based solely on the mastery of its salsa offerings, I tend to lean toward queso as a barometer of success instead. To reach the Tex-Mex ideal of a golden, molten, not-entirely-natural bowl of mildly spicy cheesy heaven, viscosity is key. The mixture should be not so thick as to support a standing chip, but not so thin as to drizzle miserably off a wanly-coated one, either. It should be just spicy enough to light a fire in your mouth, but not so much to make you suffer before your inevitably delayed water refill, and I prefer mine to be festooned with some mixture of south of the border goodies – pico de gallo, cilantro, jalapenos and yes, even more cheese in the form of queso fresco or cotija.
Settle in with a toasty bowl of lightly salted tortilla chips (not from a bag, please and thank you), or better yet, a few hot griddled flour tortillas for dipping, and tell me you’ve never eaten your fill before the entree arrives.
Katy always wanted a donut wedding cake.
Some girls like their fancy fondant, others their delicate swirls and dollops of buttercream, but no my sister has always danced to the beat of her own drum. Paying no heed to the restraints of wedding pretense, she held fast to the notion of a sugary, breakfast themed confectionary delight.
Though the notion would give traditional wedding-goers a case of the vapors, as co-Matron of Honor (with my other sister, Anna) and planner of the wedding shower, it was within my powers to satisfy this particular whim. And let’s be real, can anyone honestly resist the seductive lures of a towering donut cake?
Brunch-themed shower it is, then.