Sit right down, let me tell you a little story about my growing up. My momma was born and raised in north Mexico but when she got pregnant with my brother she came and crossed the river up to California so he’d be an American. Most people who did that got jobs as maids if they were lucky or migrants if they weren’t but momma got a job as a cook in a big house. Momma was a great cook. Weekdays I’d have to watch my brother but on weekends we’d get to go down to the home market and she’d pick up what she could to make good Mexican food like she grew up. One thing we loved was fresh tortillas, but she didn’t have time to make them herself. So we’d stop at one seller and he’d have stacks of fresh-bagged flour and corn tortillas. I’d carry the bag home and every so often open the bag and smell the warm bread-smell inside.

The other things she’d buy would be the vegetables and meats to make soups, but the food I remember best was her avocado spread, what Californians today call guacamole. We just called it home butter. My brother’s married and he lives somewhere in San Francisco, but I still make that today for momma and this is how it goes.