Hi there, fellow bloggers and food friends. A production company is currently casting for TNT’s new “On the Menu,” a Mark Burnett production. Food bloggers and home cooks with a spiffy recipe they’d like to see featured on the menu of a national chain restaurant should apply. To sweeten the deal, winners leave with moolah. Auditions are in LA.

Those who know me well know I like — even crave — fresh, unprocessed foods. In my line of work, however, I’m faced with far too many food demons (i.e. fatty foods, processed foods, foods fried in this and that). It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas (sing it with me) every season. Loads of temptation.

I was doing some work with the folks at UCSD’s Center for Integrative Medicine who inspired me, just by being around them, to eat healthier. I’ve never been a glutton, but watching them subside on fresh veggies, whole grains and $20 a pop Japanese plums got me thinking and eating more clearly. So, when one of my PR clients/friends Trish Watlington, owner of The Red Door Restaurant & Wine Bar, told me about an LA blogger’s food challenge (“eat unprocessed for 30 days and see how you feel”), I lit up. (Trish is going to label all completely unprocessed dishes on her menu by Oct. 1.)

I spoke with said blogger, Andrew Wilder of eatingRULES, this morning about October #Unprocessed 2012. He’s encouraging people to begin their journey October 1, but not to beat themselves over the head should they miss the start date. If not October, choose a 30-day chunk of time whenever you’d like, he says. This is his third year staging the challenge. Folks at LA Times and the people behind Food Inc. caught wind of this year’s challenge. Check out his Google+ Hangout with LA times writer Rene Lynch.

For the sake of simplicity — and ’cause I like it — let’s use his definition of processed food:

“If you pick up something with a label (if it doesn’t have a label, it’s probably unprocessed) and find an ingredient you’d never use in your kitchen and couldn’t possibly make yourself from the whole form, it’s processed.”

Don’t eat those. (I loathe the word don’t, but…)

As Michael Pollan says, “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.

Yep.

If you slip up, be gentle with yourself. You’re human — and wonderful.

Who’s with me? Will you take the challenge? Let Andrew know on his blog.

Chicha de Jora had been on my list of drinkable liquids to try. I became enamored with the drink after interviewing Monica Szepesy, owner of Q’ero Restaurant in Encinitas, Calif. for an article two years ago. Read it here.

The food at Q’ero is to-die-for and, in my world, food with cred begins with restaurateurs with cred. Szepesy travels to Peru each year to purchase spices she can’t find locally, yielding mouthwatering South American dishes found nowhere else in San Diego. Sure, there are the salteñas (divine!) and a crave-worthy starter salad Italian showering in a stunning citrus vinaigrette, but the kicker is Szepesy and her staff’s use of chicha de jora, a corn-derived, fermented alcoholic beverage. She can’t sell it for drinking purposes, she says, but her culinary comrades toil to make it just so they can braise their meats to tender goodness. The result: dishes like Bistek a la Trujillana: Grilled Brandt Ranch (my fave beef) skirt steak with a caramelized onion, aji amarillo and chicha de jora sauce, served over roasted sweet potatoes with sautéed Swiss chard.

Don’t mind if I do.

She says that people living in the Andes who brew and sell chicha let travelers know by raising a flag above their home. Who wants to trek with me to Peru?

The non-alcoholic version of chicha de jora is chicha morada, served at my other favorite Peruvian place, Cafe Secret in Del Mar, where a forward Peruvian elder recently stopped my friend Nicole Darling and me to emphasize how legitimate Cafe Secret is (when I mentioned Q’ero, he gave it a resounding nod of approval, too).

The pork chicharron sandwich at Cafe Secret is so delicious it overpowers my dreams and I rarely drink with my meals (digestive hazard and all), but I make an exception here from time to time with a glass (ask for light ice) of chicha morada.

My zany beer writer friend, Em Hutto, who you must follow on twitter (@emilyhutto), asked me to share her recipe for chicha morada, adapted from Limo Restaurant in Portland, Ore., with you all. So, here it is. If you make a batch, let us know how it turns out!

Homemade Chicha Morada
(Makes 8-10 servings) 

Ingredients

• 1 small pineapple
• 3-4 dried ears of purple corn
• 1-2 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2-1 tsp cloves
• 1-2 lbs sugar (yes, that’s pounds!)
• 5 limes

Food as medicine. Sounds like a novel idea, but it’s the basis for ayurveda, largely practiced in India; macrobiotics, eating to better the quality of your life; and indigenous diets the world over. We ingest food. We ingest medicine. We ingest toxins. Sometimes those labels overlap. It’s important to be cautious about what we consume. Enter Casa de Luz.

I mentioned Casa de Luz, a new restaurant and education center in the former Salvation Army building at 2920 University Ave., North Park, on Wine & Dine Radio two weeks ago when I filled in for food writer and compatriot Caron Golden. The daily changing organic, plant-based menu is based on macrobiotics, where prescribed portions of legumes, whole grains and vegetables are consumed for a healthfully balanced diet. Patrons choose from a selection of two soups or salads and then decide whether to be served the heartier main dish. The night I dined, I brought a friend who I met at cooking school with Deborah Madison at Rancho La Puerta’s La Cocina Que Canta. She’s a pescatarian and I’m an omnivore that delights in good vegetable-based meals. The soups and salads were fantastic, but the main course, what Chef called a pizza, was the clear winner.

The base, rather than a typical gluten-based crust, was a thick wafer composed of sprouted lentils and another grain. On top: julienned carrots, zucchini, cilantro, mushrooms, chard and other greens, in addition to a tasty hummus-like garlic spread. As you can see in the photos, a red sauce decorated one side of the plate and a green sauce the other — an homage to Italy, home of the pizza. Both sauces were delightful. The whole meal cost $15.95 each.

The expansive restaurant/education facility, owned by Wayo Longoria, is carefully EMF-balanced to mitigate the presence of electromagnetic frequency, and all ingredients are carefully selected for cleanliness. The water is said to be alkaline. Longoria’s father founded the first Casa de Luz in Austin, Texas decades ago, yet Longoria was admittedly disinterested in this type of eating as a youth. That sentiment changed when he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Looking at him, you’d never know it; he looks strong and healthy, a byproduct of a healthy diet, he says. He hopes to impart the same standard of living on the San Diego community, offering classes in cooking, Yoga and other healing arts, conducted on the second floor, so people can practice the fruits of their newfound knowledge at home.

What I want to emphasize more than anything here is that the food is delicious. It’s flavorful, filling and the meat is not missed. I imagine the slender vegans of Hollywood eat like this, care of their in-house chefs and dietitians. Since I’m not planning on rocking the red carpet anytime soon, I’ll stick to Casa.

Oy vey. My delinquency quotient is at an all-time high. No posts for months and, meanwhile, I’m busily taking photos of nearly every meal I consume and, subsequently, not sharing them with you. It’s a disgrace. You shouldn’t take it. Here are select highlights from the last month-and-a-half of eating. Where’ve you dined and liked lately?

Gaijin Noodle & Sake House (downtown San Diego)
Hot damn, this place is good. Been twice in three weeks and I live nowhere near it. Gaijin means foreigner in Japan. My brother-in-law, who’s in the Navy, recalls the unwelcoming response his Americanness stoked when entering certain restaurants in Tokyo. The staff would raise their arms to their chest in a firm X and yell, “Gaijin!” He was forced to exit. San Diego’s Gaijin is far more welcoming, playfully named by chef/owner Antonio Friscia, who is neither Japanese nor full of the hubris these Tokyo folks espoused.

A few favorites: green tea soba noodles bathed in uni butter; bao buns (I fondly call them bao chickee bao-bao buns); quail egg and bacon yakitori; and miso black cod yakitori, which patiently marinates for three days (Friscia says two isn’t quite enough). All meat on the menu comes from humanely raised animals and the produce from area farms. And the libations? Try the black sesame snow cone, a concoction by the ever-talented Snake Oil Cocktail Co. boys, served with a half-shot of smooth, unfiltered sake to be poured over the top. The cucumber snow cone’s excellent, too, bringing to mind a spa day — with sake.

Cucumber snow cone by Snake Oil Cocktail Co.

Himalayan Cuisine (La Mesa)
Second time at this Nepalese treasure on La Mesa’s main drag. The first was with the hilarious David Moye, Weird News columnist for The Huffington Post, and local publicist Sandy Young. Second was with the hubby. The food, drawing from the culinary traditions of Nepal and India, is similar to the Tandoor Indian cuisine common in San Diego (some better than others), but with a few different spice profiles. The late Naomi Wise, food critic for the San Diego Reader, used to tell me about her time in Nepal, so it seems appropriate to honor her memory with her 2009 review of Himalayan Cuisine, a positively captivating read. One to try: Chicken Momo (8 pieces for $9.95). These steamed dumplings, pictured below, are filled with minced chicken, onion, cilantro and a pleasing blend of other spices and served with a delicious Himalayan sauce. They made me think of the Xio Long Bao (pork and broth-filled dumplings) at the beloved Dumpling Inn in Kearny Mesa, only (shhh) I found them more pleasing. A dark dining room made for bad photo quality, so I had to do some artsy camera Kung Fu to kinda salvage the aesthetic integrity of the dish.

Momo, I love you.

Haven Gastropub (Pasadena location)
I recently took a trip to visit Mary, a dear old friend who bought a cute Craftsman-style fixer-upper in Pasadena. After a productive day of catching up, choosing flooring and planning meals for the 24 hours I’d be in LA, we settled into Haven Gastropub for dinner. Mary knows I write about food, so she was cautious with her dining recommendations. Haven was a hit.

The folks being Haven Gastropub source their meats from ranchers that practice humane animal husbandry and the produce comes from local farms. My friend is a peseceterian, so I suggested we split several dishes that conform to her dietary standards. We began with a remarkable Hiramasa (yellowtail amberjack) Crudo with pink grapefruit and moved on to the Vegetable Mélange: roasted baby beets, white carrots and other seasonal vegetables; pumpkin gnocchi; toasted pumpkin oil; fried sage and smoked sea salt. I love how the dish entails roasting, toasting, frying and smoking (but not that kind of smoking, though I’m sure some choose to complete their meal that way). This was a real treat. We also delighted in a stunning mac ‘n cheese (it takes a pretty special mac ‘n cheese to stun me these days) with black truffles, gruyere, fontina and parmesan and delicious roasted Brussels sprouts, drizzled with lemon juice (and perhaps a lotta butter) and prosciutto from Zoe’s Meats, served on the side. Fun learning about LA artisans after immersing myself in the slow food world of San Diego.

Miss. Want.

Growing up, I often felt like the minority when I was at my best friend’s house. She lived across the street (I mentioned her in my cheater chopsticks post) with her mom, dad, brother, grandma and grandpa — and it was each member of the jolly Vietnamese family’s job to torture the white girl. Sometimes the bestie’s parents let her and the white girl watch horror movies (I don’t care what age you are, there’s nothing tender about Chucky). When we shot hoops at the local park and I missed, her dad would quip, “You’ve got to eaaat more”. And when the white girl did eat — at their house — and asked what was being served, the answer was always “fox” or “dog”.

The white girl must have provided years of amusement for the Nguyen family, whose poor Chippindale mug-toting mom cringed whenever her husband invited her, last-minute, to stay for dinner. It was only right, however, after years of taunting from the white girl’s bestie, who, when fighting, refused to translate her conversations with her then two year-old brother. Emotional scars be damned; back to the food…

Then, like now, I was an adventurous eater, so I’d proudly nosh on whatever the Nguyens served me. I relished telling my parents I’d eaten fox (English translation, by the way, is “pork”). I was obsessed with a dish consisting of salty fish over perfectly steamed rice (I still search for it and am now fairly certain it’s sautéed canned sardines in oil, which I stumbled upon at Nijiya Market off Convoy). To this day, I haven’t found Vietnamese food that rivals that of my early memories, but I try — Lord, I try.

Several years ago, while chasing the dream of my childhood cuisine, Pho Saigon Express in Escondido surfaced; then, I worked in that neck of the woods. Good for me, because the fox on rice was nearly as tasty as that which once hit my pre-teen palate. Now, Escondido’s too far off my personal grid for a quick bite, so I began my search again. Pho Fifth Avenue in Hillcrest became a strong contender; the pho is some of the best I’ve had in the area, but it’s still a minor haul for this Carmel Valley-ite. A few misses later and I found another win: Pho Ca Dao in Mira Mesa; both pho and fox on rice = very good. The lay-out is akin to that of a Fedco Cafeteria (dating myself?) I was back home — the minority, once again. This could be my pre-movie pho spot. For joy!

Then recently, Josh Kopelman, the ever hard-working publisher of Dining Out Magazine, invited a group of local food writers — myself included — to lunch at Mignon Pho + Grill, oh-so-conveniently located next to my lovely salty canned fish-carrying Nijiya.

Cute place, with pine-paneled walls and cement flooring. The music: American alternative. The food: legit. Like nearly all Vietnamese restaurants in San Diego, Mignon’s nibbles are indicative of Southern Vietnamese cuisine (most immigrants came here from the south). We shared an excessive amount of food (watching Josh order was a treat; I played air guitar with a phony stop watch, trying to cease him, but he kept on: beef tongue skewers, Hanoi skewers, papaya salad, spring rolls, bánh mi, pho, brown rice pho…PHEW! The man was relentless; how were we going to eat all of that food?

Well, for one, it was delicious — and #2: we were splitting. Friends, we polished it off pretty well.

So, a week or so ago, I took the hubs to try it out. He’s not a Vietnamese food cheerleader, so it’s always risky. Pho Ca Dao made the cut and, as it turns out, so did Mignon Pho. Coming up for air between first bites, he uttered: “Let’s take our family here this weekend.” There’s a first. Vietnamese fare never tops — or even makes — the list.

Right, so back to those dishes from our food writer gathering. Here’s a taste:

Papaya Salad
One of my favorite dishes of the day: a flavorful mound of julienned green papaya and spices tossed in a sweet vinegar-based dressing and topped with fresh basil.

Beef Tongue Skewers

Friend and food writer Caron Golden of San Diego Foodstuff and I questioned whether these were really tongue. No distinct tongue flavor, but also no reason for the restaurant owners and chef to call them what they aren’t. So, I took the restaurant’s word at face value and noshed on these puppies (not foxes, mind you) like they were going out of style. Powerful flavor and downright tasty.

California Banh Mi
Fried egg and garlic french fries atop a moist grilled pork cutlet, all stuffed into a baguette. This was a favorite of Maria Montana of San Diego Food Finds, who dined across from me.

Shrimp Carpaccio Tom Chua
I might have named this incorrectly. What I ate — and loved — was a plate of tangy, slightly spicy sesame oil-marinated shrimp on an airy rice cake. Delicious.

Grilled Squid/Muc Nuong
Lightly seasoned squid, grilled to order. Thanks be for the tentacles — always my favorite part.

Pho
We had two types, both excellent, but the one that quietly chants in my mind was made with brown rice noodles — great for gluten-free gluttons and all eaters. The noodles in both pho dishes were cooked perfectly al dente and slid like velvet into the mouth and down the throat. Craveable.

With a slew of Viet-successes under my belt, I’ll continue my salty fish journey, driven by yesteryears and fueled by the food I meet along the way. As usual, the path is as divine as the pinnacle.

As the weather changes from warm to cold (and then back to warm and then back to cold — ah, San Diego!) I find myself craving soup. I set out to find a selection of what I like to call “transitional soups,” prepared at three local restaurants. Each of these delicious concoctions is poised for the winter season while gently holding the fading hand of summer. (Too morose for a piece on soup?)

I began with a bowl of Mexican-style chicken soup at Jorge’s Mexicatessan, which ended up being a favorite — so much so, in fact, that I wrote about it in CityBeat’s “Best Of” issue. I appreciate that many palates prefer a thick and hearty soup over a brothy brine, but any good Latina (or, in my case, honorary one) knows Mexican-style chicken soup is some fine eats. Bonus: It’s served year-round.

Next stop, St. Germain’s Bistro & Cafe in Encinitas, long known as a breakfast nook until its recent evolution into an all day bistro. Now helmed by the delightful Chef Kaitlin Ramos, who got her foot in the door working at Chef Dan Moody’s Relate, a pop-up concept that provided dinner service in the space for three weeks last January. Before that, she worked for the famed Wolfgang Puck in Vegas. Every veteran restaurant needs a little sprucing up from time to time and Ramos has reinvigorated this one.

I sampled a butternut squash bisque — a true transitional soup, for Ramos changes the ingredients depending on the season. During the summer, the recipe uses a coconut milk base, but in the fall and winter, the richness is amplified with heavy cream. Summer: it’s topped with cilantro oil and green apples. Fall and winter: creme freche. I like to think I make a mean butternut squash soup — but Ramos’ was far meaner (in a good way). I love chefs who care about the details (God’s in them, you know) and Ramos and her trademark fringe have it. To top it off, she serves her burgers medium rare, unless otherwise requested.

Note: I was going to try this soup several weeks before I did, but an unforeseen “circumstance” prevented it. Ramos’ husband, who had been away on deployment, paid her a surprise visit. No stalling that beautiful reunion.

With my Mexican and Mediterranean roots intact, it was time to seek Asian influence. I finished my soup sojourn at well-known Roppongi, whose chef of 13 years, Stephen Window, fuses Japanese and French cuisine. I sampled a Japanese take on French onion soup and tipped my proverbial hat to the ingenuity.

French onion soup is carried by the suffocating cap of Swiss cheese that seals in the simple, piping hot broth and steeping onions — but Asian cuisine rarely uses dairy (‘cept for the American-created Philadelphia Roll). Window used chicken broth, rather than the beef consomme traditionally used, thyme, a bay leaf, garlic and Walla Walla and Sweet Maui onions cooked down for an hour and then tempura fried. A tender  pile of braised short ribs were subtly swimming in it and the brine was topped with cheese crisp aided in flavor by a dash of housemade furakake (for those who aren’t familiar with furakake, it’s a dried seaweed mixture common in Hawaii which, while delicious, is typically preserved by all sorts of unsavory ingredients). I was glad to hear Chef made his own.

Really, this was a deconstructed Asian-French onion soup and, while I tend to balk at the term deconstructed, I’m not startled by labels when the food is good. I balanced the saltiness of the soup with a salad of beets, mint, thyme, frisée, micro basil and gorgonzola in a pomegranate vinaigrette (superb) and, what quickly became my favorite dish, a plate of simply prepared fried tofu with dipping sauces of miso ginger, ginger soy and red pimiento. I’ll be back next summer for the watermelon gazpacho.

I could go souping all year long and probably will, but these three gems got my feet — and tongue — wet and I hope they will yours, too.

Where do you go for good soup? Do share.

“We played Mr. Potato-head, trying one sensory organ at a time and following each to the best things about San Diego.” Photo courtesy of San Diego CityBeat.

San Diego CityBeat’s “Best of 2011″ issue published last week. Last year’s was Soviet propaganda themed (do this, not that; eat this, not that). Brilliant. This year it was The Five Senses, where readers and writers chose “the most sensational things to hear, spy, sniff, lick and feel up”. When asked to contribute, I ran with the sense of taste (no surprise), spotlighting three San Diego eateries you all should try (do this, not that)!!

Best Places to Slaughter a Cold
Escondido gets little love in this county, but its merits are noteworthy. Take, for instance, 24-hour Peterson’s Donut Corner at the intersection of gluttony, insomnia and Ninth Avenue. Or, in the spirit of killing a cold instead of your vital organs, Lourdes Mexican Food.

Lourdes (650 S. Escondido Blvd.) is mostly a typical taco shop—but then there’s the soup. The rice, cilantro, onion, avocado-topped holy grail is the fine chicken-tot-ing broth that enters the stomach so soundly that it will stealthily annihilate whatever transitory illness you’re fighting (minus Chlamydia). It’s like an assassin. Order half a bowl for $5.79 or a full for $6.99.

If, however, you’re feeling chitty and coastal North County is more appealing, a jaunt to Jorge’s Mexicatessen in Encinitas (267 N. El Camino Real, Suite E) is a fine idea. I found this little gem recently when the bogey-cold-man had the hubby by his lovelies and Escondido looked like a distant mirage. Person after person exited with at least one Styrofoam container (I’m not touting it for its eco-persuasions) of soup, bound in a plastic bag. It’s like grace and morphine running through the veins. Sure, the term “Mexicatessen” is off-putting, but let the hubby’s sparkling vital organs be a testament to the healing power of which only Jesus, Jorge and Lourdes are capable.

Best Place to Leave the Pretentiousness at the Door
Vanessa Williams and Vivica Fox might make a man melt, but not like the finger-licking deliciousness that is Bonnie Jean’s Soul Food Café (1964 54th St. in Oak Park).

Calorie-crunchers, beware: This isn’t child’s play. If I could somehow ring out a plate of the divine fried chicken, I’d have enough grease to oil my eternally squeaky front door, my neighbor’s, and my other neighbor’s. And unless you grew up in a Southern, African-American household, it’s simply not your mama’s fried chicken, especially when Bonnie Jean herself slathers it with a helping (equals four servings) of homemade gravy and serves it with a side of waffles—and mashed potatoes. Oh, for crying out loud, stop sobbing—embrace it.

Enter: Mac ’n’ cheese, collard greens, corn bread, dirty rice, okra and a nap. Get there on a Sunday during football season and you’ll know you’re in the presence of legitimate San Diegans; a Chargers game is on and, if it’s slow, 22-year-old Kenneth Mayfield is vocal about his allegiance.

Kenneth Mayfield? Son of Stephanie Luckett, who, with her older sister Katrina, opened Bonnie Jean’s 15 years ago. Kenneth and Bonnie Jean now helm it.

Designers, be damned. Existing for 15 years, it turns out, is a better path to ideal ambiance. From tchotchkes and trinkets that look like they migrated from the family’s home to a row of simply dressed tables, the unpretentiousness is heartening.

In a recent FoodHuddle post, I shared details about what was to be Brian Malarkey and James Brennan’s next hot spot. Not so, I’m told. The indefatigable duo has set their sites on East County San Diego. Specifically, La Mesa, in the former location of Gio Bistro & Wine Bar, 8384 La Mesa Boulevard, whose lifeless body is just tepid (it officially closed less than a week ago). Apparently the location was too good to pass up, so they called an audible.

According to a trusted source, Malarkey-Brennan’s new venture will be named Gingham (ring a country bell?), following suit with their other fabric- and pattern-themed establishments. And it’s slated to open prior to La Jolla’s Herringbone.

Starting the trek of high-profile restaurateurs to East County was Jeff Rossman, executive chef/owner of Terra American Bistro (disclaimer: he’s one of my PR clients), which relocated a handful of months ago from Hillcrest after 13 years. With Rossman having tested the waters with success, an increasing number of restaurateurs and  foodophiles will undoubtedly follow, just as Malarkey-Brennan has. Other notable newbies in the area include PubCakes and Lisko Artisan Deli and Fish Market.

Do you think La Mesa is fertile ground for the restaurant/nightclub experience typical of Malarkey-Brennan’s MO?

This is Chef Tino aka my father-in-law. The man can cook. On more than one occasion, I’ve spotted him walking westward toward my home, balancing two bags — like that scale icon used in law — while I’m headed eastward, with the same end in sight. (If two trains traveling at…) In those bags: vittles I ALWAYS care for. When he graces us with carnitas, carne asada, fresh tortillas or albondigas soup, it’s enough to turn a full-fledged vegan. Scout’s honor.

Chef Tino did not want to stand still for a photo op

‘Quick! What’s your favorite Mexican restaurant or taco shop in San Diego?’ I’m often asked. My response is consistant: I have my favorites, but none of their food compares to my father-in-law’s. (Did I mention the man can COOK?)

A few days ago, Chef Tino arrived, bags balanced and filled with vegetables. He’d been busy with work and otherwise for weeks and, thus, the hubby and I were needing some Tino (aka Papa) time. We handed him a package of humanely-raised ground beef and the necessary spices from our cupboard in anticipation of Heaven’s Cauldron of Deliciousness and Spanish rice. Hyperbole? No, sir-ma’am. Mmmm. For those who don’t know, albondigas is a hearty Mexican meatball and veggie soup.

Chef Tino is efficient and swift in the kitchen — and he didn’t want to miss his telenova, which was only an hour from airing. So, he quickly formed the meatballs.

Paleeze!! These meatballs are freaking perfect.

Oh, you couldn’t help but notice those perfectly formed meatballs above? Yeah, no kidding. Puts me to shame EVERY TIME. Now, full disclosure: If you came here looking for an albondigas recipe to replicate at home…*womp womp*. Disappointment, my friends. Chef Tino only shares his recipes with family and I will not be the one to breach that long-standing code.

Boilin', boilin', boilin'. Keep them rice grains boilin'.

Homemade Spanish rice. SUPER easy to make and so good. Look at that lovely melange of rice, vegetables and fairy tears. *sigh* Your disdain for me — and our mafioso-like family — is growing, isn’t it? I’m sorry. This is simply out of my hands.

The finished product.

Mmmmmmmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, how you tease.

There she is. Lovely, isn’t she? Imagine the taste (I suppose you kind of have to, since this snarky blogger isn’t even hinting at the recipe. Oh, hey! You can see some of the fine ingredients in there! You’re welcome.

Altogether now.

The soup + the rice. No lime slices pictured, but a squeeze of lime juice is a pleasant addition. Serve with fresh tortillas and you’ve got yourself a meal. More like ten, actually. Leftovers can be frozen, but chances are they won’t be around long enough for that harsh move.

Stay tuned for an upcoming “soups of San Diego post”. We’re calling them “transitional soups” as they’ll help you make the culinary leap from summer to fall.