Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Thanksgiving Luau Memories in Baja

Thanksgiving Luau Memories in Baja

This is a true story about an unforgettable, once-in-a-lifetime Thanksgiving that I was fortunate enough to experience in 1995, down in Baja California, Mexico. I know this tale doesn’t really fit in with the scope of our White Trash Cooking blog – but who cares? I want to share my tale with everyone else and this is the only way I know how to share it!

My next door neighbors, Steve and Linda Paliska owned a house on a cliff in an enclosed, gringo enclave called Las Gaviotas - just south of Rosarito Beach, which is about an hour drive south of San Diego/Tijuana, along the Pacific coast. It was a beautiful, rugged place that still had authentic Mexican charm and gorgeous beaches. Steve and Linda invited my family to come down for Thanksgiving in 1995 and we hesitantly said yes. We weren’t real comfortable with going out of the country with young kids, especially Mexico, but Steve assured me that all would be fine. He told us to arrive a couple of days before Thanksgiving so that we could see the area and help with preparations – and so we did just that.

Steve’s brother, Paul and his family were already there when we arrived. Steve showed us around his house and the enclave. The house sat on top of a 100 foot cliff, with spectacular views of the Pacific Ocean, and in the distance, the island of San Clemente. There was a long, zig-zagging staircase that dropped down to the beach below. The first night we were there, we all climbed down the stairs to the beach and made a huge bonfire. On the beach were thousands and thousands of black and gray, water-sculpted smooth rocks – about the size of a large, russet potato. We talked about our plans for Thanksgiving and it was all agreed that we were going to have a traditional turkey feast with all the trimmings. Steve had bought a big, 25 lb turkey to cook. It was a beautiful night with a full moon and we all drank and partied late into the evening.

I got up early the next morning and after grabbing a cup of coffee, I began looking through Steve’s large collection of books in the living room. I soon found an old book from the 1940’s, which was a short story on how to go about doing a Hawaiian Luau. Steve and Paul got up shortly after me and joined me in the living room. I was fascinated by the book, which was very simple and with exact step-by-step instructions on what was required to cook a pig, Hawaiian-style. I showed the book to Steve and he said that he had acquired it at a neighbor’s yard sale years before. He had never even read it.

On this particular morning (the day before Thanksgiving), I guess Steve and Paul woke up ready to start partying early because the next thing you know, they had a bottle of tequila out and started passing the bottle around. I figured what-the-heck, might as well join them – after all, I am in Mexico. The next thing you know, Steve decided that we were going to have a Hawaiian-style Thanksgiving – which meant that we were going to have both Turkey and Pig. The problem was that we had absolutely none of the items necessary to cook a pig, Hawaiian style - and we were in Baja – not Hawaii. Nevertheless, Steve was certain that we could find everything we needed nearby in Rosarito Beach. Paul and I merrily agreed to join Steve in his quest to get everything that we needed to cook that pig – Hiccup. Thus started our incredible scavenger hunt.

Basically, we needed: a small pig, banana leaves (to wrap around the pig and seal in the juices), burlap (to go around the banana leaves), chicken wire (to wrap around the burlap), firewood (no problem), and small, round rocks (thousands on the beach) that were heated up in a fire and placed all around the pig, which was placed in a hole that we had to dig somewhere.

Steve spoke Spanish pretty well and so we set off in his truck to Rosarito Beach. We first went to the Rosarito Beach hotel, which is very famous. We told the clerk at the front desk what we were doing and he gave us some leads on where we might find what we needed. The only items that he wasn’t sure about were the pig and the banana leaves. While we were at the hotel, Steve bought us Carta Blanca beers and shots of tequila. We were lucky and found the chicken wire and burlap at a hardware store in town. But no luck on the pig and banana leaves.

We ended up driving all the way from Rosarito Beach to Ensenada – stopping at what seemed like every bar in between - Calafia, Puerto Nuevo, La Fonda – drinking beers and tequila. A bartender at Hussongs Cantina in Ensenada finally pointed us in the direction of a farmer outside of town. After arriving at his farm, selecting a pig and haggling over price, we finally came to an agreement. We waited outside by our truck while the farmer “prepared” the pig for us – and yes, you guessed it – drinking beers and tequila. And wouldn’t you know it, the farmer actually had banana plants growing on his land. We again negotiated a price for the banana leaves and came to an agreement. I can only imagine what that farmer thought about us – those “loco gringos!”.

We somehow managed to get back to Steve’s house by dinner time – we were obviously pretty looped by then. But we were just getting started and time was running out. After woofing down some tacos and burritos, we discussed our next step. We needed to dig a hole someplace for the pig. We decided that the logical place to do that was down on the beach. So we grabbed all our items, including a shovel and pick, and climbed down the stairs to the beach. We dug a pit in the beach sand and started a bonfire. Then we collected rocks and threw them in the fire – which was a mistake. Never throw cold rocks into a blazing fire because they can, and do explode. Hmmm, what to do? We decided to start a new fire –this time placing the rocks underneath the wood first, so that they would gradually heat up. This worked fine. However, we forgot one crucial factor with our plan – the tide.

We, or actually Steve, had forgotten about the fact that the beach was almost completely covered by the ocean at high tide. Our fire was soon out. Hmmm, what to do? It just so happened that there was a “shelf” carved into the soft sandstone cliff about 12 feet up from the beach, by the stairs. So we got the pick and started carving out a pit hole in the sandstone. Fortunately, we had beer and tequila to help us with our task. By midnight, we had carved out our pit, had our bonfire going again and had our rocks heating up. We placed the hot rocks in the pit, the banana leaf, burlap, chicken-wrapped pig on top of that, more rocks and then shoveled beach sand on top of the pig - we then placed a Mexican blanket on top of the sand to try and keep as much heat in as possible. We were working solely on our belief that the instructions in the Luau book were fool-proof and that we had accomplished our tasks perfectly. If we had done everything right, the pig would be fully slow-cooked in 8 hours. It was now 2 in the morning. I don’t know how we did it, but we managed to stay up all night long next to the pig, just in case wild coyotes (or locals) decided to wander by – drinking beer and tequila. At some point, I passed out – and woke up at dawn on Thanksgiving morning – about as hung-over as I have ever been in my life.

After we all had showered and changed clothes, we pulled the pig out of the pit sharply at 10am, desperately hoping that it was finished cooking. We peeled off a corner of the pig “blanket” and sliced off some of the meat – it was incredible – tender and moist, with an enticing aroma that reminded me of Hawaii – must have been the banana leaves. We had done it!

Thanksgiving dinner was due to be served at noon and guests were already arriving. Steve had contracted to have workers from the Rosarito Beach hotel set up and serve all the food – and he had also arranged for Mariachis to play. The chef did a great job of preparing the pig – although the way he prepared it was very similar to Carnitas actually. Who cared though – the pig represented the fruits of our hard, drunken labor.

The day was like a dream – beautiful weather – overlooking the ocean – with the Mariachis playing the Macarena (yes, we all danced to it) – and of course, drinking Mexican beer and tequila. A most unforgettable Thanksgiving in Mexico.

- Rick Gurkin

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