Comfort food is hard to define—that is, until you really need it. Last night was one of those nights. For most, comfort food conjures up visions of fat, sugar, cream, or chocolate—the classic no-no’s of health. But to my delight, I have found that in the world of food, comfort goes by many other names.
Comfort food in the winter is easy: just turn up the heat and heartiness and you’re set. And chocolate is a no-brainer, rarely failing to deliver a brief flirtation with other worlds.
But what about in the heat of the summer, when the wind has whipped the sweat off your skin for an hour and forty-five minute’s bike ride, competing with the sun to brand you its own—what then is comfort food? When you’ve run around all afternoon under the (blessed) heat of the June sun, carting things in and out of your car which you repeatedly curse for being black—what then will bring you relief? When you get told that a U.S. border guard made a mistake with your documents, rendering your recent 3-hour trip North just to re-enter the country to change your visa 99% pointless? When everything just seems to pile up on one lone innocent Monday—what then is comfort food?
I don’t know what you say, but I say Tostadas. Not one to call the whole thing off and resort to toast for dinner, I pulled some little corn tortillas out of the freezer. Since moving to the US, I’ve discovered (not only the true meaning of comfort food) the true meaning of Mexican food. Down here they go way beyond the sloppy burritos and “I could make those at home” nachos peddled by Winnipeg’s Carlos and Murphy’s imposters. But best of all, down here I learned the art of the tostada: quite possibly the world’s fastest, healthiest, friendliest supper for one.
While my two corn tortillas browned away in the toaster over, I dumped a half a can of black beans in a non-stick skillet over medium heat. A squirt of hot sauce, a glug of Dinosaur BBQ sauce, and a little mashing-with-the-spatula later and they were ready. Then it went a little somethin’ like this: toasted tortilla, sprinkle of mozzarella, black bean mixture, chopped tomatoes, torn romaine, a glug of red salsa and one of Wegman’s salsa verde, some green onions and low-fat sour cream–voila! Or shall I say, Ola! I was in the kitchen for probably about 8 minutes. It would’ve taken me longer to find the phone number for Alto Cinco.
Since I couldn’t be bothered with the pictures tonight (#1 way to tell if you’re a compulsive food blogger: eating a meal without a camera nearby = relaxing) I have provided you with some shots of the more accessorized tostadas we made for my folks when they were here in April. For these we fried the tostadas, but tonight I learned that toasted are just as good and of course, healthier. Tostadas are forgiving. Top ‘em with anything that brings you comfort: Grilled shrimp, chicken, cabbage, Cadbury Mini Eggs.
At the end of my exasperating day was a yellow-brick road paved with sweet, crunchy, chewy, leafy food. How simple a remedy; how basic the desire for true pleasure in satiety. Now for the chocolate—thankfully I picked up 3 Lindt Chili bars at Target earlier today—and if a 3 for 5$ decent chocolate sale isn’t evidence that life balances itself out, I don’t know what is. And Mr. Border Patrolman can go stuff himself with Hershey’s.