I LOVE RIAN DAWSON SO MUCH AND IT SUCKS PEOPLE DON’T GIVE HIM AND ZACK AS MUCH CREDIT AS ALEX AND JACK BECAUSE HE IS SERIOUSLY ONE OF THE FUNNIEST PEOPLE EVER AND HIS SMILE IS THE BRIGHTEST THING AND CURES SADNESS IF I EVER GET THE CHANCE TO MEET ATL HE’LL BE THE FIRST ONE I RUN TO SO I CAN GIVE HIM A HUG FOR JUST BEING AMAZING IM GONNA CRY 

it honestly baffles me to know that there are whole countries that don’t have a gastronomy-centered culture, that their kitchen doesn’t occupy the front lines of their identity.

like, i know i’ve complained about the mexican cooking time. but whenever i think of chicharrón en salsa verde i remember standing next to my mother while she prepared everything and i peeled the green tomatoes. or espinazo con nopales while i tried to wash the slime away off the cacti. or sleepy sunday mornings when i helped chop the onion for the chilaquiles and cried my eyes out. i helped while she cooked and rambled on and on about her life.

i always saw it as a tedious chore, until i realized that it was thanks to those few hours of constantly groaning and rolling my eyes at my mother that i was transported to her hometown through her stories, that i felt her joy at the retelling of her travels, that i could sense her sadness when she spoke of her family. it was in the kitchen that i got to know a side of my mother that nobody else saw. and holy shit, that creates a strong national identity.