I was trying process a lot of intersecting events today when I recalled the first car I ever owned, more accurately the first car my parents purchased for me.  I remember the drive with my dad to an unfamiliar neighborhood, I kind of remember our exchange as we exited his car, and then I remember us walking back to his car with no second car.  I’m piecemealing grainy memory artifacts here but I’m a numbers guy and I remember clearly the $900 asking price and the $675 buying price my dad finally negotiated for my first car – a 1980 Chevy Monza.

Mine had a luggage rack bolted onto the trunk which made it a “sport” edition.  It wasn’t until I wrote this entry that I put together the connection that the Monza competed with the Ford Mustang II – the same car my parents purchased for my older sister years before.  Her car was red; mine was primer grey (but I waxed that matte like no other).  The interior was burgundy vinyl so imagine the armadillo groom’s cake from Steel Magnolias on wheels!  And as I’m starting to learn based on the varied ages of my readers, we may not all have the same shared experiences.  Steel Magnolias was a wildly popular movie set in my home state many, many moons ago.

My sophomore year in high school I drove the Monza to Homecoming after picking up my date from a neighborhood close to where I used to golf.  She was a year older, and we met in math class – pretty and nice to a fault; she surely had other invites but went with my friend date offer.  I remember showing up at her house and her father straightening my collar; I was still shaky nervous because it was a date, albeit a friendly one.  I remember her mom fastening the boutonniere on my sports coat and off we went.  I was a sophomore out of his league driving a Chevy Monza.  I loved that car and would honestly buy it again for the memories.  I had buddies driving new cars and I can honestly say I loved my Monza – memory fades but if mine holds true the engine block had a crack in it so I carried 2 liter water bottles around to fill up the radiator when it got hot.  Good times!

Last Friday my youngest had his own Homecoming event.  Times have changed for sure, but my wife and I attended the football game along with our son which was nice.  He hung out with us for a bit and then moved on to the student section.  He had some friends in general to meet, one in particular.  These days it’s a lot less about a single dance and more about events and activities leading up to the football game.  Our local news even featured a neat article on an area school district that set a Guinness record for the largest mum (article).  And in the midst of all this I sent my oldest some of my old golf clubs – they may or may not ever get used but I’ll inspect them when I’m onsite regardless.  He had been on my mind because I had recently given a presentation to parents of middle school and high school students on the college admissions process.

Old cars, old traditions, old memories.  One of my wife’s students knew she would be at the game last Friday and looked for her to no end (his older brother is in the high school band).  He came in on Monday and said as much.  Even though they didn’t connect with each other, they now both remember something together about that game.  I had to baby my Chevy back in the day to keep it going, homecomings are unpredictable, and collectively their reminders live on.  While these days there seems to be more noise and drama in our work space, it’s still pretty cool to be so directly connected to generations experiencing these memory makers.

Four years ago, I launched this site with little forethought on its lifespan.  My first post drew attention to heat islands and food deserts.  At the time I shared with readers an article I had read that suggested poor city neighborhoods are often much hotter than wealthy ones.  Beyond the more obvious reason for this due to affordability of air conditioning, low-income areas are prone to “heat islands” which is a term used to represent communities with little vegetation and lots of concrete.  They lack greenery, public parks, adequate landscaping, and so forth.  These parts more often lack indoor respites like movie theaters and malls and share another phenomenon – food deserts.  Back then I didn’t elaborate on this latter concept – I’m older now (four years to be exact) and I feel a bit more obligated to offer a voice.

This time around I’m reading an article from BNN Bloomberg talking about London’s best Mexican Restaurant, one that does not serve avocados! My wife and I are small, small-scale foodies which means we basically love to eat all types of food without judgement 😊. After reading the interview with Santiago Lastra, the chef and owner of this pseudo-guac restaurant, I was honestly impressed. Before I give my two cents, here is THE LINK so you can decide for yourself. And for what my couple of pennies might be worth, you have a culinary MacGyver who can basically do it all but if he has to do it without the necessary ingredients, he’s going to improvise. It’s a fascinating quick read on the insights of an industry giant and I’ll do the one more by pasting some of the reveal below:

His most brilliant innovation might be his “avocado,” made from pistachios and served pureed as a garnish on such dishes as crab and mushroom chalupas. “If you had a magic wand and could convert an avocado, it would become a pistachio,” says Lastra of the sweet, nutty taste they share. He purees the nuts with water to make a smooth, guacamole-like condiment that also includes roasted garlic, his fermented gooseberries/lime juice concoction, and a little chilis. The approximation to a very good avocado puree is uncanny.

I can’t make you read the article but there is a reason this Michelin-starred restaurant and its chef go to such links.  In many ways, Chef Lastra is simply trying to source locally and sustain his local community.  Can you imagine a legend in his or her field and at the apex of his or her career saying “I know I can get what I want” but it’s about getting what others might want as well?  He’s building capacity within his sphere of influence.

I hope Santiago Lastra is a good guy.  His story inspired me in particular as I negotiate a household with a child who does not like guacamole.  It’s weird these days because I’m down to just one picky eater, and that’s actually been a lot to take in – the drinking from a fire hydrant is a good analogy as I adjust to our family growing up (and out).  If nothing else, trust me, here is your new favorite guac recipe (I promise).