6/28/2026, 2:48 AM
I can't sleep because I have pozole rojo on the brain.
If you don't know any Mexicans then you might not know what pozole is. For the uninitiated, pozole is a hearty Mexican soup. It comes in three colors, red, green and white. I am most familiar with the red variety. Red pozole (pozole rojo) is an incredibly savory soup packed/garnished with all sorts of yummy stuff such as: pork, hominy, freshly sliced cabbage, onion, radish and dried chili peppers. It is one of my favorite soups and of course, no one makes it quite like my momma does. Which is perhaps why I can't sleep.
My memories of my mother making pozole are none. I can think of all the times I've eaten the pozole she's made. I can think of the tall silver pot she cooks it in. I can think of her voice telling me that it's ready to eat. I can think of her serving my father a bowl dressed prettily with the green, red and white veggies. I can think of the taste, of the smell, of the texture of the soup but I can't actually recall her making it. It's disconcerting to say the least. How can I, a person who proclaims to love my mother, not know in excruciating detail the labor that goes into this soup. I can imagine her of course. Alone, at the buttcrack of dawn, boiling pork for hours, slicing cabbage, dicing onions, and her constantly greasy phone blasting Juan Gabriel songs.
This is not to say I have never been interested in learning the intracacies of Mexican gastronomy from my her. She has always appreciated my interest but my enthusiasm and subsequent questions were often met with a, "You'll figure it out" and/or, "You'll know you've got it right when it tastes like my food." I'm not sure what changed this time around but I think it has something to do with my phrasing. Rather than ask a, "Can you teach me?" it was a, "Let's make pozole tomorrow." Maybe my mom, a caplable woman made to feel stupid her entire life, was scared of the prospect of teaching me. What exactly goes into teaching someone something anyway? The act of teaching implies a deep understanding of a subject and an ability to explain the whys of the hows. That is a lot to ask of a person and while these generational recipes can be learned, I'm not so sure they can be taught in a traditional sense. Doing and accepting that something goes into the recipe because it tastes good, is much more managable.
All in all, there is so much more I should say about this subject but alas, I'm finally getting sleepy. I can only say, very plainly, that I'm excited to finally get a peak into what my dear mom has done for decades. Sorry that I'll be cooking on less than 5 hours of sleep, mom!