Three flights sounded like a nightmare but they all went smoothly and we were poolside at a lovely little hotel in Mérida, Mexico by 2 pm. We found a restaurant with great reviews just 800 ft away but found they weren’t serving until seven. We chose another two blocks away but on the way to that one we found the intriguing Museo de La Gastronomía Yucateca, an open courtyard in the center of an old building with huge doors, the kind you would see in a Vincent Price movie.
They started us with two ice cream sized scoops of whipped beans con salsa verde. We each ordered a Cerveza Patito IPA and we split a bowl of Sopa de Lima. We shared a serving of Pollo Pibil, baked in banana leaves and didn’t have room to pick the bones. We ate like kings and the bill was not even thirty US dollars. Quizás, Quizás, Quizás by Celia Cruz on the sound system topped it off.
3 Comments
Paul and/or Peggi:
Do you have an opinion about the essays on art written by Peter Schjeldahl?
Love most of them. Read many of them in the New Yorker, have his book (collection of essays) and his daughter’s book.
Thank you for answering. I love his writing – it is challenging to read, but it is rewarding to slowly absorb the meaning of the words he uses to describe his reaction to art.
I am curious from your perspective, as an artist, if the content of his words changed the way you react to art.
What I mean is that I am somewhat comfortable with my opinion of him as a writer, but I don’t understand art well enough to come to an assessment of his actual analysis of the art. Do you value that?