Chicago.

I had only been to Chicago once before, and even then it was only by chance. My parents and I were flying to Spain, and a several hour layover at O’Hare became a 24-hour delay. So after a night in the only dodgy hotel we could find with a room, we spent a few hours strolling downtown and gazing at impressive old buildings. Not enough really to give me any sense of the city. So when my friend M___ invited us to visit on our way to South Africa, I decided to rework our route.

And in a way, Chicago was a fitting city for my departure from the United States. Though it’s not a city I know, it was the setting for some family history, where my grandmother lived and worked as a young woman, and where she met my grandfather. Beyond that, Bordeaux and I had come to the partly to experience winter, and we would certainly get one last dose of it in Chicago. And lastly, we entered the US with a weekend of eating American in Los Angeles—where better to go out eating a few last American meals than in Chicago?

The few days we spent in the city were obviously not enough to see much, but it give us a glimpse at least. We checked out the Art Institute, admired old houses as we rumbled past them on the El, and visited incredible independent bookshops, cafes, and design stores. Our few days also gave us a chance to see why so many people consider Chicago to be one of the best cities for eating in America. Chicago boasts an incredible variety or international cuisines-- including at least two Thai restaurants per city block, one of which we enjoyed a delicious bowl of khao soi in. But really, it was two American standards we were after: hotdogs and deep-dish pizza.

Hotdogs weren’t difficult to find. We passed tiny counter restaurants, and catering trucks that steamed the cold air. But how to find a good one? Though it’s not always a reliable method (think of overrated Pink’s, in LA), we opted for one of the classic shops: Clark’s. Bordeaux ordered a chili dog, and I had a Polish sausage with sauerkraut and mustard. The food cooking behind the counter looked relatively ominous, with sausages boiling in brown water, and chili bubbling an intimidating shade. Thankfully, it all tasted good. Years of a developed sense of New Mexican superiority over anything resembling ‘tex-mex’ have disabled me from ever ordering chili, but I have to admit that Bordeaux’s hotdog was much better than mine.

The next night, after a little experimental Chicago theatre, we returned to M___’s apartment, where her boyfriend had ordered us a pizza: a massive deep dish pie filled with sausage, onions and green peppers. It was my first time eating deep-dish, and it was more fantastic than I could have imagined. Though pizza rarely makes a featured appearance on Primitive Culture, I have to admit that it’s actually one of my favorite foods. It can be modified and played with so easily: made with different crusts, topped with delicious and unusual cheeses, and serve as the ideal base for experimental ingredient combinations. This one definitely deserves a spot as one of the best I’ve eaten.

It was so good, in fact, that we sought out another deep-dish pizza for lunch the next day. Hours before the flight that would take us over the Atlantic and out of the US for who-knows-how-long, we had one last delicious American meal.

Lights of Madrid, NM.

We've really been trying to make the most of Christmas this year: searching out good recipes for baking, making our own Christmas cards, and browsing at local shops. We've also been able to take part in a few local events. This past weekend, we traveled north through sparse hills and shadowy valleys, to the town of Madrid. We arrived at dusk, just as the light was beginning to bleed light pink and pale violet, just in time to watch the town's strings of lights flicker on.

Madrid isn't a town, exactly. It had occupied a bustling career as a coal mining center in the 1850s, and was even one of the first places in New Mexico to receive electricity. After falling into derelict as a ghost town, it was revived as a community for artists, who now operate a string of quiet galleries, shops, and cafes. Every year in December, the town is decorated in strings of Christmas lights, and weekend openhouses are hosted for visitors.

We went up there this year to view the lights, enjoy a warm latte, and do some shopping ... well, maybe not the shopping. I have to admit that the style of artwork popular in Madrid isn't really my thing. The town looked rather charming though, and had a truly welcoming atmosphere. The shop owners were friendly and inviting, and many even offered cold-weather treats, like peppermint cookies, handmade toffee, and warm mulled cider. One artist even had a fire ready, with marshmallows for roasting.

Brrr.

We've had a few light flakes over the past week, but yesterday morning it started snowing, and didn't stop until long after dark. The white stuff piled up over the day, leaving my neighborhood piled with a powdery three inches! I'm guessing readers from colder climates are probably rolling their eyes, but after a year without seasons, it felt great to be back in the cold.

We spent most of the day warm inside, but we did venture out for a walk-- a few blocks over and across the park to the drugstore, where we gathered ingredients for Bordeaux to make candy cane hot chocolate. Yum. Pictured above is Bordeaux in the park, enjoying his first snow fall.

And today? Mostly melted, turning to slush. Oh well...

First Snow of the Season Oatmeal.

Has the theme of my last post suggested what I missed most in Bangkok? Seasons. Ok, we had hot, cool, and wet-- but in Thailand I was missing autumn, winter, spring and summer. In addition to being able to dress for the seasons, or enjoy a change in the weather, I'm happy to be eating seasonally again.

We had our first snow fall this morning (it was light and didn't stick, but it counts!), so I started the day with a warm breakfast. My current favorite breakfast is a bowl of oatmeal, garnished with berries, nuts, and either dark brown sugar or maple syrup. Pictured above is a bowl of oatmeal with walnuts and dried fruit from Flying Star, the Albuquerque Cafe that I mentioned in my last post. It's a great local spot for breakfast, from the above, to delicious muffins, to big plates of huevos rancheros.

What are you eating for breakfast?

Eggnog Cookies and a Celeb Sighting at the Nob Hill Shop & Stroll.

Christmas last year in Bangkok was an odd experience-- lots of lights, Christmas music, and homemade treats, but it all felt strangely disconnected in the tropical clime. So this year, we planned our return to my hometown of Albuquerque, New Mexico with the holidays specifically in mind. So far, it's been great-- we were greeted upon arrival with a chill in the air, my sister has helped Bordeaux with some holiday treat making, and we've even gotten to join in some local festivities.

Last Thursday, we took part in the Nob Hill Shop & Stroll. Nob Hill is Albuquerque's hippest neighborhood, a stretch of Central Road lined with cafes, salons, and boutique shops. For the event, the street was closed down, and pedestrians were free to browse in shops, sample street-stand treats, and enjoy roving musicians (pictured above: mariachis in Santa hats, of course).

After squeezing through the crowds in a few shops we ducked into the Flying Star Cafe, for a rich glass of hot chocolate and a giant eggnog cookie. Coming in from the cold, the decadent treat was the perfect cap to the evening. We also got a little bonus celebrity sighting: Ewan McGregor looking very handsome one table over-- thanks to New Mexico's burgeoning role as a low cost filming locale.

Merry Corporate Christmas.

Merry Christmas, from Bangkok.

Let it snow.

Growing up in New Mexico, I was accustomed to celebrating Christmas without any snow. Though it was always cold by late December, snow usually fell only a few times a year, rarely stuck, and melted quickly once it had settled on the ground; basically, statistics were against me having a white Christmas. The few rare holidays where we did actually have snow were thus all the more memorable.

Last year, we came absurdly close. I flew home from South Africa a week before Christmas: a long day and night of traveling that had began with an exhausting six hour delay at the Oliver Thambo airport in Johannesburg. After a rushed connection in Washington DC, I was almost stranded in Chicago with the news that the city of Albuquerque had been swallowed in a winter storm. Thankfully, our flight was granted clearance after only a two hour delay. I arrived in Albuquerque long after dark, to find my hometown blanketed in a sugary layer of pristine snow.

By the time Christmas arrived, however, most of the snow had melted- only shallow icy mounds remained, cowering in the shadows of houses and large trees. Christmas passed, and just before New Years another snow storm arrived- even bigger and more devastating than the first. Roads were blocked, businesses closed; I had never seen anything like it. Since our cars were encased in white cocoons on the driveway, we trudged out on foot, exploring the incredible white landscape of the city transformed.

Christmas in New Mexico.

I spoke to my parents this morning; apparently they're getting a snowy winter in Albuquerque this year. Then, an hour later, I took the laundry downstairs, and found that two big packages from home had arrived, filled with Christmas presents. So my thoughts are on home now. Albuquerque, New Mexico is most beautiful in the summer, when the trees are full and green, and the vast blue days give way to sudden, dramatic thunderstorms. But Christmas-time also carries a certain charm. The weather is usually chilly if not snowy, with long freezing nights and bright days of biting cold sun. The city is at its most bare- leafless trees revealing sunbleached streets lined with modest pueblo-style homes. The cafes and boutique shops in Nob Hill provide a great walking street to pick up last minute presents, or to enjoy a Christmas cookie and a cup of coffee. Since my ideas of New Mexico at Christmas are obviously bundled up with a lot of childhood memories, I'm willing to admit I'm being nostalgic. But, in my defense, the city does have a number of local traditions for the holiday that make it special.

The most recognizable of these is the luminarias that appear everywhere around Christmas. Luminarias are brown paper bags, weighed down with sand and lit from inside with tiny votive candles. Toward the end of December, they appear along rooftops (which are traditionally flat, in New Mexico) all around town. Though they're just plain, everyday lunch-bags, they warm up with an unbelievable, orange glow when lit. Last year on Christmas eve, after a dinner of posole and enchiladas, we walked around Old Town. As a big tourist draw, it's always fully decked out for the holidays, and the huddled adobe buildings looked particularly charming in the glow of the luminarias. The massive snowstorm of the previous week had already melted away, and the air was feeling just as dry and crisp as the brown glowing paper itself.