Growing up in San Antonio, there are just certain things that you don’t think twice about. A lot of times, this pertains to food: chips and salsa should always be complimentary, the chips are often red and green during the holidays, and migas are really tasty.
Then you go north for school and notice the absence of all these things. In fact, you see things like canned tamales. Pardon?? I don’t even want to know.
When you come back, you find yourself working and hanging out with people from all over who have been transplanted into this seemingly other world. That’s just how music is. They can’t believe that it’s 75 degrees in December. You catch them gawking in awe at the Christmas-colored chips, expecting them to be flavored. (They’re not.) And if you tell them of a great place to get migas, they’ll give you a blank stare, probably thinking you misspoke about where to find female friends. Continue reading