i was born with chips and salsa in my hand.

i went home this weekend. naturally in my mind, visiting boise and my family is always coupled with food. driving home is never a boring task because usually i am brainstorming about the crazy concoctions  i plan to make my dad try, thinking about things to pulverize in that beautiful vitamix that perches atop the counter, or daydream about my parents one day agreeing to go out to indian food with me (funny joke. a girl can dream….) upon my arrival home, i’m always greeted with an emphatic “so are you hungry?!” to which i reply, “mmmm not really” as i swing open the pantry door to take stock of what i can shove into my mouth the fastest. i don’t know about you, but something about going home makes me ravenous.

so anyway, on saturday we went to cafe ole. i’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for that place. in my childhood, it was the place we went to celebrate my mom’s pregnancy with payton, (an event i remember vividly as being way too confusing for my six year old brain)  and the restaurant where they’d bring out a gigantic sombrero on your birthday and print out a dorky picture of you in it, with the words, “I GOT SHOT AT CAFE OLE’ scrawled underneath. it is the home of the best chips and beans/salsa on this side of the rio grande, and real mexicans go there for the gigantic plates of fajitas and margaritas the size of mixing bowls. all in all, it is wonderful, and upon eating that first chip i knew it’d been way too long since we’d been reunited.

we ordered fajitas, burritos, and payton got a burger (he hates mexican food. i don’t claim him). the proudest moment of my life was when my dad, the sheep herding cowboy farmer raised in southeast idaho, ordered fajitas with chicken and shrimp, and then refused the steak ones that were accidentally brought to him, simply telling the waiter that he ,”didn’t eat red meat”.

i take full responsibility for rubbing off on these people.

we ended the night with fried ice cream and debates on whether or not the ice cream was actually fried in old times. i’ve forgotten the rest because by that point i was in a food induced coma and needed both a. stretchy pants and b. an early bedtime.

food, family, fajitas… does life get any better?

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