My husband, Hero, and I have backgrounds as diverse as you can imagine. A regular, old case of opposites attract. His family consists of Panamanians, Japanese, and Wyoming cowboys. His Dad is a retired army veteran, so they all have lived in many different places. Meanwhile, I'm the product of English colonists who came all the way across the Atlantic to Virginia and stayed put for 400 years until post ww2 brought my grandfather over to Germany, where he met and married my grandmother.
(Coincidently, this is how Hero's parents met, only the army sent his grandfather to Japan. In case you're wondering Hero's parents met while the army stationed his dad in Panama. Go Army!). Hero grew up on Soba, I had spaetzle. His parents' home is all carpets and take your shoes off at the door, my parents' home is all wood floors and keep your shoes on. They like wasabi with their sushi and salsa with their tomales, we like horseradish with our brats and butter on our biscuits. Point taken?
Anyway, when Hero and I were dating, I made a joke of pretending to be a restaurant whenever his brother Yan would call. This particular "restaurant" poked a little fun at his Asian/Hispanic roots and was called "The Happy Taco"--imagine a Mexican restaurant run by Chinese people with dishes such as "teriyaki chicken quesadillas", "sushi burritos", and "fried Spanish rice".
So when I decided to start blogging, I had to find a name for it that wasn't too cutesy, self important, or personal, but genuine and fun-- so there you have it, The Happy Taco! ( now serving sauerkraut salmon roles and nachos con sausage gravy.
Sayonara, mein amigos,
Honey
No comments:
Post a Comment