On mole and matrimony

My dear, food-loving friend Monica recently announced that she and her fiancé John eloped to Oaxaca, Mexico. How appropriate, I thought, as Oaxaca is the land of seven moles.

Mole (pronounced moh-LAY) is a rich, complex blend of seemingly disparate ingredients: chocolate, chiles, cinnamon, nuts, chicken broth and raisins being just a few. And the making of the sauce takes preparation, patience, passion, dedication and time. But the rewards far outweigh the travails: after one bite, you can taste all that you’ve put into the mole and that joy makes it all worthwhile. Much like marriage.

Monica and I go back almost 20 years. We met when we were teenagers and we bonded by tooling around North Texas in her silver Jeep Cherokee, singing at the top of our lungs, debating the meaning of life and stirring up all sorts of mischief. We weren’t much into food back then as Whataburger and Taco Bueno made up the bulk of our diet. But we had a taste for life and as we walked into a new, grown-up world with wobbly legs, those college-era friendships provided the necessary support to transform us from unruly kids into productive, responsible and caring adults.
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