The Fixins

Celebrating Cinco de Mayo is kind of a recent phenomenon on Skinny Island, we think, certainly in the environs of the little hacienda.  We are certain our ancestors up the road a bit didn’t give it much credence, if they even knew about it.  Historically speaking, when the event occurred on which the celebration is based, namely the unlikely defeat of a French force by Puebla Mexicans in 1862, (not Mexican Independence) we were engaged in a little difference of opinion of our own down here.  That said, it is a boon for bars and restaurants, particularly those with some outdoors ambiance, and we have gradually and somewhat reluctantly warmed to the idea, if on a small, private scale, aided by a little personal affinity, born of travel.

We toasted Cinco de Mayo last year, fittingly, poolside in San Antonio, on the first leg of The First Farewell Tour, and continued toasting throughout the desert southwest as long as the Tequila held out.  With no blender, and wary of carrying glassware in the camping gear, our Margaritas were served on the rocks in all-purpose plastic, but seemed to suffice.  Not surprisingly, the desert is by far the best environment for imbibing tequila.  It’s natural; it fits.  That warm internal glow is ineffably enhanced by the mystery of the desert in last light, as one discovers kinship with creosote, sage, juniper, jack rabbits, and agave.

So, yearning for the desert, our toast tonight will be to returning to that magic land a time or two more.  Well fought.  Cinco de Mayo, y’all.