Yesterday I was making guacamole for our taco dinner, complaining about the state of Seattle’s produce in comparison with the produce we bought super fresh and local in Perú.
I pretty much went on and on reminiscing about how you could ask for avacados that were ready to eat that day (“paltas para hoy día”). And then, as I was pulling the leaves from the stems of the green herbs in front of me, I started in on the cilantro and how fresh and fragrant it was in Perú…
“See, this stuff might look pretty and green, but it doesn’t even smell,” I told Scott, holding it out to him.
He took one whiff. “That’s parsley.” Oops. It made for odd guacamole.
