Those Tongue Gorditas

These are the aforementioned tongue gorditas I ate while moving. They were so good that they themselves were quite moving.

This meal typifies the hodge-podge style of cuisine that defines eating and moving. Dishes are made entirely from ingredients that need to be used up, whether from the garden, the freezer or from lord only knows.

The gorditas were made with masa harina that had been in the fridge for a dubious period of time and were inspired by my article on Chole Adams in up Craftsbury, VT. The tongue had been in the freezer for much longer than a dubious period of time and had come from a friend with a meat CSA that had a sort of spare parts cooler where everything was a dollar. Same place I got that lamb heart. The fixin's, including guacamole and cilantro, were salvaged from the leftovers of a catering gig I did the day before.

But it was the months-old, defrosted tongue that was the star of the show. I put it in a crock pot with a dried chile, cumin seed, a dash of salt, about a cup of water and a healthy splash of cider vinegar. I let it cook for, oh, ever. It must have been at least seven hours.

Eventually I nudged it with a chopstick to check the texture, and the chopstick pushed clear to the other side like a plane going through a cloud. Apparently resistance was futile.

The texture was somewhere between barbecued brisket and pâté. The crunch of the gordita was a perfect contrast, the repurposed toppings a welcome dose of (day old) freshness. The only thing I didn't like about the meal was the yellow exposure in the photo, which was because all of our lamps were packed away.

I don't know why it took moving to make me put it all together.