Nov. 3rd, 2014 10:19 am
Selling the dead
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muckefuckDay of the Dead worked out even better than planned. Originally we had wanted to take the El down and run to Bombón for pan de muertos before meeting our friends at the Museum. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu rang them the evening before to confirm their hours and they warned them there was a 5 km run that morning and it could be quite crowded.
When I rang Bigbones to fill him in, he suggested instead that we both take the bus and he would track us using an app on the Old Man's phone so he could meet us downtown in his car and whisk us to Bombón's Near West Side location, stopping by their place in River North to pick up Miss Cleveland. That all came off exactly as proposed, and rather than being squeezed among a milling crowd into a tiny shop on 18th we could leisure take our pick of the big beautiful breads they had lined up.
There was crowd enough at the National Museum of Mexican Art, but fortunately the huge youth group seemed to be just leaving as we swept in. I think this was a better-than-average year for the main exhibition, with a sumptuous Otomi-style ofrenda and an homage to Mandela that left me close to tears. The ofrenda for García Márquez was clever but not as moving. Another work that got under my skin was an offering to mistreated animals which featured a grotesque rendering of a scene the artist had actually witnessed: a dead cat hanging from a street sign outside the municipal cemetery.
Of the two side galleries, one had some works on paper whichmonshu thought showed fine technique but which didn't speak to me thematically. We were both very impressed with the retrospective of Mexican abstract art. I know little about movements in Latin American art, so the existence of the Generación de la Ruptura was revelation to me. I wouldn't mind seeing more from those painters, particularly the ones who studied in Europe and brought back influences from Miró.
We all spent a lot of time in gift shop afterwards. The Old Man was hoping to find a nice reasonably-priced piece of Oaxacan black ware, but the selection was surprisingly small. It was being edged out by majolica, which I wryly noted was more Miss Cleveland's taste. In fact, he was very taken with some garish switchplates decorated with calavera motifs and spoke of coming back for them after he'd had a chance to survey the apartment to determine what they needed. In the end, he left with a piece for a friend and we acquired a lovely Catrina-in-a-box with big dangly earrings.
For lunch, they said they wanted "high-end Mexican", so we made a return visit to Decolores on Halsted, which Nuphy had introduced us to the previous year. I remembered the food as being interesting but not amazing, but this year I ordered the shrimp fajitas rather than the sauced chicken breast and was more impressed. Their take on mole is mild and creamy, as I learned from snitching from the Old Man's plate, and I liked the guac. Afterwards I got a slice of tres leches from Kristoffer.
Then our buddies revealed their ulterior motive: the huge new Costco on Ashland. They smuggled us in with their membership cards and acting as cicerones as we struggled to take in the vast proportions of the Better-Walmart. We left with everything from cheddar to underwear. I felt a bit bad about the wasteful packaging on the fresh fruit, but I've never seen Asian pears at such a good price. (That's how they get you!) Bigbones had even more fun showing us around than we had shopping and offered to take us there again on one of their weekly trips.
By the time we made it back home, most of the afternoon was gone and we were pooped. When dinner rolled around,monshu wasn't even hungry enough to eat the tamales he'd picked up at a bodega round the corner while I was in Kristoffer's. They also had tamales there, and I bought two since they promised to be mild. The filling was an odd mix of chicken with green olives, potato, and green beans in just a bit of tomato sauce. I nibbled a strip of the GWO's tamales, which were chicken and mole, and they were better.
That night, I got scooped by Game Night, but it's questionable how many bears I would've gotten for cocktails anyway since once again I didn't promote heavily. I'm mulling another strategy change, one of focusing in on a few couples each month and working to get them to come rather than sending out a cattle call and being content with whoever stumbles into the paddock. It was only Fig this time and I was happy with that since it gave us a chance to really catch up. I know he's anxious to move back to North Carolina, so I'm trying to spend more time with him before he goes. He says he'll be convalescing from surgery in December, so that should give me an opportunity.
monshu rang them the evening before to confirm their hours and they warned them there was a 5 km run that morning and it could be quite crowded.When I rang Bigbones to fill him in, he suggested instead that we both take the bus and he would track us using an app on the Old Man's phone so he could meet us downtown in his car and whisk us to Bombón's Near West Side location, stopping by their place in River North to pick up Miss Cleveland. That all came off exactly as proposed, and rather than being squeezed among a milling crowd into a tiny shop on 18th we could leisure take our pick of the big beautiful breads they had lined up.
There was crowd enough at the National Museum of Mexican Art, but fortunately the huge youth group seemed to be just leaving as we swept in. I think this was a better-than-average year for the main exhibition, with a sumptuous Otomi-style ofrenda and an homage to Mandela that left me close to tears. The ofrenda for García Márquez was clever but not as moving. Another work that got under my skin was an offering to mistreated animals which featured a grotesque rendering of a scene the artist had actually witnessed: a dead cat hanging from a street sign outside the municipal cemetery.
Of the two side galleries, one had some works on paper which
monshu thought showed fine technique but which didn't speak to me thematically. We were both very impressed with the retrospective of Mexican abstract art. I know little about movements in Latin American art, so the existence of the Generación de la Ruptura was revelation to me. I wouldn't mind seeing more from those painters, particularly the ones who studied in Europe and brought back influences from Miró.We all spent a lot of time in gift shop afterwards. The Old Man was hoping to find a nice reasonably-priced piece of Oaxacan black ware, but the selection was surprisingly small. It was being edged out by majolica, which I wryly noted was more Miss Cleveland's taste. In fact, he was very taken with some garish switchplates decorated with calavera motifs and spoke of coming back for them after he'd had a chance to survey the apartment to determine what they needed. In the end, he left with a piece for a friend and we acquired a lovely Catrina-in-a-box with big dangly earrings.
For lunch, they said they wanted "high-end Mexican", so we made a return visit to Decolores on Halsted, which Nuphy had introduced us to the previous year. I remembered the food as being interesting but not amazing, but this year I ordered the shrimp fajitas rather than the sauced chicken breast and was more impressed. Their take on mole is mild and creamy, as I learned from snitching from the Old Man's plate, and I liked the guac. Afterwards I got a slice of tres leches from Kristoffer.
Then our buddies revealed their ulterior motive: the huge new Costco on Ashland. They smuggled us in with their membership cards and acting as cicerones as we struggled to take in the vast proportions of the Better-Walmart. We left with everything from cheddar to underwear. I felt a bit bad about the wasteful packaging on the fresh fruit, but I've never seen Asian pears at such a good price. (That's how they get you!) Bigbones had even more fun showing us around than we had shopping and offered to take us there again on one of their weekly trips.
By the time we made it back home, most of the afternoon was gone and we were pooped. When dinner rolled around,
monshu wasn't even hungry enough to eat the tamales he'd picked up at a bodega round the corner while I was in Kristoffer's. They also had tamales there, and I bought two since they promised to be mild. The filling was an odd mix of chicken with green olives, potato, and green beans in just a bit of tomato sauce. I nibbled a strip of the GWO's tamales, which were chicken and mole, and they were better.That night, I got scooped by Game Night, but it's questionable how many bears I would've gotten for cocktails anyway since once again I didn't promote heavily. I'm mulling another strategy change, one of focusing in on a few couples each month and working to get them to come rather than sending out a cattle call and being content with whoever stumbles into the paddock. It was only Fig this time and I was happy with that since it gave us a chance to really catch up. I know he's anxious to move back to North Carolina, so I'm trying to spend more time with him before he goes. He says he'll be convalescing from surgery in December, so that should give me an opportunity.