Sour Oranges and Mortality

Today's favorite moments included . . .

. . . getting our car back from the mechanic after a simple fix that cost a fraction of what we were bracing ourselves for.

. . . taking a Valentine's Day motorcycle ride with my sweetie.  I'm so, so grateful that my back was well enough for it.  It's my second ride with him, and as we cruised between lanes of traffic on the freeway I reflected that a motorcycle ride is a great Valentine's Day activity because it invites me to exercise faith in the two most important men in my life - faith that Phillip is a skilled driver, and faith that God won't let me die before my time.  Don't get me wrong, the ride was my idea, but the first few minutes of our rides always make me acutely conscious of my own mortality.

. . . eating  dinner with Phillip at the Yucatecan restaurant Chichen Itza, where he bought my cookbook.  The food was plentiful and delicious, and when I worked up the nerve to nibble a habanero pepper Phillip showed me where to bite it so it wouldn't be spicy at all.  To think that I've been living in fear of those fiery little things for years, and they're absolutely harmless if you just bite the ridges.

. . . discovering that the restaurant sells sour oranges (naranjas agrias), which are a traditional ingredients for making cochinita pibil (citrusy shredded pork, one of the signature dishes of the Yucatan peninsula).  Phillip and I both love the dish, but sour oranges are tough to find in the U.S. and I've had no luck until now.  We bought some and I stuffed them inside my riding jacket for the ride home.