Tuesday, November 03, 2026

Nopales en la Frente

Nopales Time Is Now 
Michael Sedano

 
Grocery stores now sell nopales ready to cook. Some worker has scraped off the thorns, washed, and diced the cactus. That's a wonderful addition to grocery aisle. But for others, there's foraging. 

Neighborhood landscapers have discovered the beauteous opuntia in xeriscape plantings. Few of your anglo neighbors will be hep to eating that cactus, by golly, but they've heard of it. Here are some ideas to get them eating like a Mexican.

A born nopal-eater and having one en la frente, el Gluten-free Chicas Patas eats nopales all year long, not just for cuaresma.

The Gluten-free Chicano 2014
Peeling Nopales the No-Espina Way
https://labloga.blogspot.com/2014/05/raza-hollywoods-best-kept-secret-sci-fi.html

Sadly, the title misleads a bit. Any time a cook prepares fresh nopalito pencas, an espina or two is sure to find a finger or palm. Así es, the romance of el nopal.



A sharp paring knife and careful finger placement between the espina carbuncles are two secrets to preparing nopales. 

Use a washable cutting board or work on newspaper. Draw the knife around the spiny perimeter of the cactus paddle, cutting away the outer ¼ inch of spininess.

Hold the penca flat and draw the knife across the face of the penca nearly horizonally. Most espina nubs cut right off. Dip the blade in a glass of water to wash away espinitas.

Steel the blade frequently to keep the edge slicing effortlessly.

Wash the pencas. There's a white espina in the top middle of the foto below.



Slice the pencas into ¼" strips. Draw the blade at a diagonal through the strips.

The nopalitos are ready to use in a salad, a stew, with scrambled eggs. Below, nopales simmer with carne de puerco. Later, the cook will add una torta de camarón.



See below for The Gluten-free Chicano recipes for nopales con tortas de camarón and a really fancy yet economical pumpkin hominy and nopales guisado.


The Gluten-free Chicano
Nopales con carne de puerco y tortas de camarón
Michael Sedano

https://labloga.blogspot.com/2013/02/nopales-chicano-photography-floricanto.html


Grown from single penca planted in 1960. ©2013msedano

You know it’s Springtime when opuntia cactus of the right varieties form plentiful buds and you keep an eye on them over the next few weeks until the pencas are large and still tender, deep green and ready to be picked, peeled, diced and cooked up.

But early February is not Springtime. The nopales stand bereft of buds. Still weeks to go before we can return to the old nopal and harvest some of its tender offerings. When he bought this land in 1960, my father kicked his heel into the hillside here, to soften the dirt. He dropped a penca where he worked and stepped on it, pressing it into the earth.

When there was still open land and groves in Redlands, people who didn’t grow their own knew the best places to pick nopales. Just as gente knew the groves where the best verdolagas grew, a favored field where the kelites were almost weed-free, they knew where the best tunas--hence the best nopales--grew. Nopales were a feature of the local landscape; in the wash, in alleyways, in a corner of an empty lot.


Unusually thin penca.

Some nopales are more delectable than others. The ones with fuzzy micro-espinas are inedible just because they're so much hassle, no one I know has ever eaten one.

Pencas need to be new growth, healthily green-colored, free of complicated espinas, and a scant half inch thick, so diced chunks have skin on two sides.

Always ask permission before cutting someone's nopales. Most gente will exchange recipes and urge you take a few more. I've heard some tipas request a few dollars to allow a forager to pick nopales.

Today, the local Mexican markets sell diced nopalitos in plastic bags, as well as whole pencas if you want them for grilling, or to cut your own.

The nopal forms the heart of comida de cuaresma. With scrambled eggs for breakfast, in a pickled salad for lunch, and Nopales con tortas de camarón for dinner, those observant of the Lenten stricture against eating meat find hearty eating in nopales.

I, like my people, always preferred the dish with pork, hence today’s The Gluten-free Chicano recipe features pork as well as shrimp and eggs with nopales. The dish is completely gluten-free.

Nopales con carne de puerco y tortas de camarón is down-home cooking, but also company food.

Ingredients
Medium onion
4 teeth garlic
three or four branches of cilantro
Two pencas or 1 pound diced fresh nopales.
1/8 lb chicharrón broken into 2" squares.
1 lb pork, 1/2 cubes".
Serrano or jalapeño chiles, sliced thin.
salt, red chile, comino powder, black pepper.
Eggs – 2 people per egg
2 oz ground dried shrimp powder (I large package)
Baking soda
limón or lemon
Tomato sauce
Water or broth, maybe milk


Nopales exude a viscous gum during cutting and cooking. This is a natural thickener to the sauce but can be unnerving to the first-time user.

In a smoking hot pan...
Mince onion and garlic and wilt with the sliced chiles in good olive oil.
Add cubed pork, brown.

Add sprigs of fresh cilantro.
Toss in the nopalitos and fry until they turn a deep green.

Lower the heat.
Add one or two cans of tomato sauce and the water from rinsing the cans.

Stir in pieces of chicharrón and let simmer twenty minutes or however long it takes to make a batch of tortas de camarón.

Tortas de Camarón
This torta is an omelette thickened with powdered shrimp.

Separate eggs. Add a pinch baking soda to egg whites.
Beat egg whites to light peaks.
Blend in egg yolks.
Stir in 1/4 cup of water or milk, salt, black pepper.
Stir in half the package of powdered shrimp.
Assess your needs. Add water and the rest of the shrimp if you'll need to make more tortas. The mix should be thick enough to form dollops, not pour.

Squeeze a lime or lemon half into the egg-shrimp mix.

In a hot pan...

Drop generous tablespoons of egg mixture into hot olive oil and spread the pancake with a spatula. Turn and cook until center is done. The tortas will brown very nicely.

Float the tortas atop the nopales and serve to table.

Place a torta or two on each plate, cover with a scoop of nopales and carne de puerco. Eat with your hands and tortilla de maíz. 

Refritos, green salad, cold gluten-free beer, hot conversation at your option.

That's all there is to making delicious nopales con carne de puerco and tortas de camaron. Note, moreover, there are other ways to prepare and eat nopales, e.g., a salad. If you would like to share your favorite method of preparing nopales, leave a comment below, or email your detailed and illustrated recipe (link). You could become a guest columnist!

Sunday, November 01, 2026

Un día en imágenes con los ancestros por Xánath Caraza

Un día en imágenes con los ancestros por Xánath Caraza

 

Xanath Caraza

Este 2026 les comparto mi altar para Día de muertos, el pan que horneo cada año y una taza de chocolate para esta mañana. Les recuerdo del recital de poesía y narrativa el 6 de noviembre para conmemorar Día de muertos. Ojalá y nos acompañen.

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza


Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza


Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza

Xanath Caraza


Thursday, October 29, 2026

Chicanonautica: ¡Feliz Dead Daze, Cabrones!


by Ernest Hogan



I’ll be on the road when this comes out. Another one of the searching for America things that my wife, the fabulous Emily Devenport, and her brother Michael Thiele, do every year in memory of their mom, the late Margaret Devenport, a road tripper extraordinaire. Sometimes new traditions are in order.


Hell, sometimes new civilizations are in order, but I digress . . .


Once again, it’s happening in the last half of October, Latino/Hispanic/Chicano Heritage Month (just for the record, for me, every month is pinche Chicano Heritage Month), the lead-in to Halloween, and los Días de los Muertos, and a midterm election that promises to be . . . well, let’s not go all Nostradamus here and just say somekinda transmogrification will be going on. The Wild West will be festooned out in chingaderas both holidazical and political. Lots to see, photograph, and write about.



Some folk get upset about mixing up Halloween and the Días, and we should be aware of the two very different traditions and intents they come from, but, like I suggested in Smoking Mirror Blues, it makes for a fantastic three day celebration–¡DEAD DAZE!--that has not quite materialized yet, but we can hope.


Yeah, yeah, calaveras and Catrinas shouldn’t be Halloween costumes, and we should try to keep Disney and other corporations from appropriating it all, but holidays, like cultures, change. The Dias de los Muertos we see nowadays, with sugar skull-faced mariachis everywhere, and proud Catrinas as embodiments of female empowerment instead of the caricature of vanity that José Guadalupe Posada intended, is not the way it was done back in the 20th century. The skeletons were a Mexico City/Tenochtitlán thing. In rural Mexico it was more of a quiet remembrance of loved ones with picnics in cemeteries. By the year 2000 Chicanos north of the border made it into the multimedia spectacle that it is today.



Who knows what it’ll become in the future? My social media feeds are full of postings by young people who are living the sort of things that were far-out wackazoid sci-fi when I was writing about them back in the antediluvian Ninties. Ha-ha, dude, where do you get them crazy ideas? Somekinda genetically-enhanced peyote? Ese, can ya sell me some?


On these road trips, I keep seeing sugar skulls and Mexican restaurants beyond the borders of Aztlán. Colorful decorated skulls are seen in hip coffee shops far from any barrio. La Cultura is reaching out, growing.


Is that an onramp to the Intergalactic Barrio I see in the distance?


Chicanonauts, Xicanxfuturists, Ciberbandidxs take note. You have to build the universe you want. Slavishly conforming to not-so ancient traditions is not enough.  Imagine! Create! Make!



Ernest Hogan will be back in Arizona soon. Once again, his books, High Aztech, Smoking Mirror Blues, Cortez on Jupiter, and Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song: 15 Gonzo Science Fiction Stories, are available through Amazon and now Barnes & Noble. Buy them and review them! You should vote too, while you're at it . . .


Wednesday, October 28, 2026

Mistaco: A Tale of Tragedy y Tortillas- ¡Mistaco! Un recuento de tragedias y tortillas

Mistaco! A Tale of Tragedy y Tortillas



Written and illustrated by Eliza Kinkz



*Publisher: Kokila

*Print length: 40 pages

*ISBN-10: 0593700236

*ISBN-13: 978-0593700235

*Reading age: 4 - 8 years

*Grade level: Preschool - 3



A chaotically funny debut picture book about a girl who's had a terrible day full of mistakes and finds that making mistacos could be a delicious solution.


After an awful day at school (including a tragic but plausibly deniable mishap with a pudding cup), Izzy wants to be left alone. But it's Friday, and that means making tortillas with Lito.


As the mistakes pile up, they come tumbling out of Izzy—and Lito surprises her by saying everyone makes mistakes, and if she makes a tortilla out of her mistakes, he will EAT it. 


"Mmmm. . .spicy! And boogery! With a hint of courage. My favorite taco EVER!" 


Suddenly, the whole family is confessing and getting mistakes off their chests with a feast of mistacos! A delightfully silly picture book for fans of Dragons Love Tacos and The Book of Mistakes. Includes instructions on how to make and enjoy your own mistacos!




¡Mistaco! Un recuento de tragedias y tortillas




Un álbum ilustrado caóticamente divertido sobre una niña que ha tenido un día terrible, lleno de mistakes, pero pronto descubre que si los convierte en mistacos podría encontrar una solución deliciosa a sus problemas.


Después de un día horrible en la escuela (incluyendo un trágico incidente con un vasito de pudding), lo único que Izzy quiere es que la dejen en paz. Pero es viernes. Eso significa que es el día de hacer tortillas con Lito. A medida que las historias de sus mistakes se acumulan, Izzy los va soltando uno por uno, y Lito la sorprende diciéndole que todos cometemos mistakes, y que si ella hace una tortilla con los suyos, él se la comerá.


“Mmmm... ¡picosa! ¡Y mocosa! Con una pizca de valentía. ¡Mi taco favorito EVER!”.


¡De repente, toda la familia empieza a confesar sus mistakes y a librarse de ellos con un festín de mistacos!


¡Un álbum ilustrado deliciosamente disparatado para los fans de Greg Pizzoli y Oh, Olive! de Lian Cho.




Review


“Pura Belpré Honor winning–illustrator Kinkz conveys a message all kids need to hear: Everyone makes mistakes, and owning them can bring relief and even joy…Kinkz has created a fully realized youngster who’s equal parts goofy exuberance and vulnerable insecurity. A deliciously effervescent celebration of family and resilience.” —Kirkus Reviews, starred review


“[W]ith magnificently scrawled artwork, Kinkz offers a story that blends deep empathy, raucous candor, and a useful ritual for dealing with shame.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review


“Kinkz has created a reassuring story of big feelings and belly laughs in her author-illustrator debut, no mistake about it.” —Booklist, starred review


“Every scene will invite readers closer into the pages till they’ve found every burp, fart, and poop joke, and terrific asides… There are no mistakes in these pages, just an SEL lesson writ large, delivered with perfect comic timing. A must.” —School Library Journal, starred review




Eliza Kinkz is a Tejana artist who never stopped viewing the world through the bright colors of her crayons, AND she even ate a few, too! She's illustrated many hilarious picture books, including Papá's Magical Water-Jug Clock by Jesús Trejo which won the Pura Belpré Illustration Honor, and was the 2022 James Marshall Fellow. All her ridiculous scribbles burst straight from her heart, which is overflowing with joy. . .and probably a few crayon pieces. Eliza lives in Austin, Texas, with her family and her one true love, a huge bowl of queso. Mistaco is her author-illustrator debut, and you can spill all the frijoles to her at ElizaKinkz.com.











Tuesday, October 27, 2026

Am I Blue?

Quest For The Marine Blue: 2026 
Michael Sedano

It would have been 2020 when I spot the first specimen of a butterfly, new to me, that continues to hold my attention when I walk through gardens, now in search of the perfect foto of this gorgeous gem.

I looked up the one I photographed at a distance. I marveled at its name, “marine blue” Leptotes marina. It wasn't blue. It was mottled brown. Why is that speckled brown butterfly called Marine blue? 

Over succeeding months I wander perplexed as can be that this brown-speckled creature I see only at a distance, has “blue” in its name. 

Finally I see it, the blue! My photographer’s quest gains a high point in search of the blue. Once sighted once determined to see another. Today, like a blue moon you’ll see me standing alone, near a plumbago cluster or some anonymous shrubbery. 

I'll be watching a cloud of whitish grey insects that flitter incessantly, rarely landing. I hold the camera against my chest, poised to raise the viewfinder to the left eye as my right eye vigilantly surveys the flitting white souls, I seek the one or two who land near enough for a foto. 

And long enough. Touch-and-go is the Marine blue’s habit. When mating seems a good idea, the resting butterfly spreads its wings, opening the brown-speckled exterior to a glittery purple-blue inner wing with a blue fuzzy covering across its thorax. I'm not fast enough to capture instants when a second blue thrashes into the open-winged beauty and the pareja flits away.

Shadow and interior branches take away most of the glowing blue and purple. Out in open shade makes glorious, detailed portraits. Full sun gives intense contrast and, at the right angle, great color. I prefer a 100mm macro lens; it creates images of precision and detail.

Recent years have been tough for Leptotes marina sightings. Reliable sites became unreliable and sightings remained catch as catch can and way over there pa’lla you see the flittings of what might be Marine blue, or the more common Grey hairstreak. By the time I walk to the spot, they’ve flitted away. 

Only as October 2026 wraps for the year does my Huntington Library walkabout help me produce a current year once again blue foto. 

The image happens in full sunlight over my shoulder. It’s the only butterfly to land near enough for the macro lens’ focusing capacity. 

I step off the paved path onto the Huntington’s don’t-tread-on-me tierra, angle myself to within six inches of the creature, dance the lens in and out until I find the focus across the entire butterfly. I push the button. And again and again until the vista in the viewfinder is just leaves. The sighting for 2026 produces only a dozen fotos. I like one good enough to share, so as usual, I am satisfied to have what I have.

December 2022 marks the end of the fourth year Barbara and I lived with Alzheimer’s dementia. As sole caregiver—I would not have it any other way—I needed regular respites. 

A four-times a week respite most often finds me camera in hand at one of southern California’s large gardens, the Huntington Library and the LA County Arboretum. 

I walk and see what I can see and forget what I can forget and resolve the unresolvable. When I see a butterfly or bird my enormous complicated world becomes the limits of my viewfinder. For these fractions of seconds This is all there is. I am here. Press the button.

Here is my La Bloga column from a December 2022 walkabout when I exulted having found the answer to the question, why is that speckled brown butterfly called Marine blue? 

Mira nomás! 

2026. Here is the camera's full-frame view of the inch-long Marine blue. It doesn't land on a flowering bush, the Dalea bicolor where I'm standing. When it opens its wings I'm breathless. My quest is a foto showing how it gets its name and here it is. All I have to do is twist my body and lean forward and not fall on my face.

2026. The butterfly is oblivious to the happy photographer who's crept on his knees to a closer vantage spot and gets to move in for a close-up with the close-up lens. The tattered wing and fading color identify this as an old-timer making a few final forays in search of a mate and a place in the sun.
====
 
From La Bloga Archives:
Mystery Mariposa Comes Into Focus

Michael Sedano


Realms of green make up my oft-traveled routes when I consider how the morning light finds a bird or butterfly where I point my camera during my morning respite walkabouts at Huntington Library. 

Gulf Fritillary on Jessamine cluster

As a full-time caregiver, I know the vital importance of having time to myself. I buy two mornings with a visiting caregiver, and twice a week, Barbara attends a dementia daycare center, giving me six hours respite time all to myself to do with as I please. I pay a premium to walk the gardens of the Huntington Library two hours early, so that's what I please. 

Fritillary rests on Savila penca

A photographer gets the early light and not a lot of foot traffic to scare off the critters that draw my lens. The membership is worth the money and, membership has its privileges. You get the whole place to yourself, casí.

One morning I stalked the Aechmea flowers along the rainforest trail. My eye catches a white fleck against deep green. The tiny moth, or butterfly, flits erratically about, touches down but doesn’t land. 

I wait it out. The white speck flits in and out of the shadows, touching and flitting, disappearing into the leaves only to reappear a few plants away.

Then it lands. I approach and the white speck flutters away. I get a fuzzy foto that I identify as a Marine Blue butterfly. I'm intrigued. The name belies the look of this brown mottle winged soul. 

I add the Marine Blue to my inner alert list. I begin filtering the view sensitive to those flitting white specks on a horizon. Not the White Cabbage butterfly, nor an assortment of white moths and hover flies and tiny bees. Rarely catching a glimpse of the elusive Blue, I stay alert with high hopes.

Butterfly and bird photography takes what nature provides. When I see one, I see one, rarely three, in the distance. I see those white flecks and have no clue to the blue. 

"Ah ha!" moment: Marine Blue shows its color

Spring is in full flush in late March when I see my first blue Marine Blue butterfly on an unfamiliar plant. I get a foto at long distance. 

I see a few folded wings on this plant subsequently, but despite long waits there, not a one Blue parks and opens its wings to show off its hidden spectrum. The butterflies park and flit, I stand and fret.

Unsatisfaction is not dissatisfaction. You can do something about nagging unsatisfaction. Something has nagged at me since that inroductory sighting at the Aechmea, something about this tiny erratic mysteriously-named life. I need to get a close look, and I need to get a macro showing all the details and reason for giving this beast its name, Marine Blue butterfly.

My walkabouts at the Huntington Library and at the Los Angeles County Arboretum a few miles away  grow more intent on finding the Marine Blue . 

I capture many a Fritillary, a Monarch and a Swallowtail. Dozens of Colibrí bring my heart joyful moments of pure respite as I hold the floating creature in the viewfinder, slow my breathing, anchor the lens to my body, synchronize eye brain finger decisive moment and press the button. 

But none of the fotos feature the Marine Blue butterfly. 

I grow more deliberate in my walkabouts, choosing trails where antes I’d spotted the Blue, stopping on a trail on a sunny morning watching for flitting white specks, even shaking a plant now and again to see what flies out. No Blues. 

The Mother Lode. The Elephant Graveyard. The Diamond Mine of the 7 Dwarves! Uncle Scrooge’s Money Vault. Eureka. 

I find the place where Marine Blues come to feed on crisp Fall mornings when the garden offers little else. 



With changing seasons, Butterflies have become scarce, and with Winter around the corner I’d abandoned thoughts of capturing the elusive Blue in 2022. 

Weeks had passed without a sighting when songs of feeding Colibrís stop me in my tracks. The birds hide behind thick branches so I planned to walk on to the Sausage Tree flower where hummingbirds might await.

I whirl toward the path when a white fleck catches my eye. 



Only a Blue flies like that. Then a second and third appear like magic and so it is. They fly into a ray of mid-morning sunlight and catch the light. They target a non-descript bush growing like a barrier between the path and a spectacular red Esperanza tree where the hummingbirds lurk. 

Not a barrier plant at all! It is the Marine Blue motherlode, Dalea bicolor. I stand stunned at the sight of this endless parade of flitting white specks that circle about the plant then land. The insect dances upon a flower cluster, dips its proboscis into the well of nectar. Then they spread their wings to catch the light and lighten my heart.

I won’t label my quest after a Marine Blue an “obsession” although I admit to growing frustration last Summer when I couldn’t find the Blue in the garden, and that grew into a klnd of anxiety that when I did see a Marine Blue, I had the wrong lens or I couldn’t get near enough with the right lens. And I'd nearly abandoned hope for this year of seeing them again. 


That’ s all in the past now because I know where Dalea bicolor grows at the Huntington. And I've seen the Marine Blue at just the right light when their wings shimmer with diamond dust painting the hidden reaches of their namesake wings. Ay de mi.

The Marine Blue led me to the Dalea’s tiny flowers to teach me to appreciate "nondescript" dust-catching bushes growing in the shadow of spectacular ornamentals. 

Órale, that was no obsession but a well-defined goal pursued with a deliberate process of looking. Looking just at the world as I find it. Looking and not thinking about all those caregiver duties and responsibilities that you can’t see when you’re making a photograph of one particular six by four inch slice of the real world there at the end of your lens and that’s all there is for right now.


Sabes que? This close up is why.