Vegan Tostadas with Black Cumin Crab + Lime, Mint & Wasabi Slaw

Happy Cinco de Mayo! Cinco de Mayo brings three thoughts to the foreground of my thoughts: 

1) Mexican Food (duh.) 

2) The real reason we celebrate: Mexico's victorious negotiation when the French, Spanish and British Naval Army showed up demanding repayment. 

3) Tequila. 

 

Tequila and I have a very rocky history. I've not-so-proudly earned myself the nickname "Tequila Monster." In January, my dear friend Leigh, who you may also know as the Anonymous lewd comment poster on my blog, experienced the Jenn's body + Cuervo tyranny first hand. 

The evening started off as any typical Friday night in West Hollywood. Meet up at Leigh's. Pick up Friend. Pay $10 to park on Robertson, then hit the bar. For anyone that knows me personally, I can drink my weight in alcohol. I'm a 50% Belarussian + 50% Austrian/Hungarian Jew. I make sailors look like scared, baby kittens. 

Tequila is the exception to the rule. For whatever reason, just one shot of Tequila sends my mind to another plane of confidence. Shots two and three activate neural pathways that activate Tequila Monster Mode. To summarize, it doesn't happen instantly. It sneaks up on me just when I think it's all good. 

Back to the story. We down shot one of Jose Cuervo, then I drink a Corona. Now, being the good daughter that I am, I listened to my Dad when he said "Liquor before beer, you're in the clear." This particular evening his advice backfired. We start dancing, take shot two of Cuervo, dance some more. My self-conscious nature usually kills my confidence to dance freely, let alone to do what transpired moments later. 

We take shot three. The last few things I remember are as follows: 

-I make out with Friend quite publicly for an undetermined amount of time. As I was told, I whispered some things to Friend that were smoother than peanut butter just prior to pouncing on her.

-I run for the bathroom, cutting the 10+ people in line, burst into a stall and begin to heave. 

The rest of the story is as told to me by Leigh and the Friend... 

Leigh and Friend drag me out of the bar, and I resume vomiting into a very-visible public trash can. Leigh and Friend finally drag me to the valet stand. Did I mentioned that I'd driven that evening? Three shots usually doesn't phase me, and if I weren't a projectile fountain, we would've grabbed a bite first. 

The valet takes one look at my hot-mess state and asks "Is she okay!?" 

Leigh: "No. I'm driving." 

They carefully place me in the back seat of my car, but I decide I want to sit on the floor. I proceed to puke into a PAPER grocery bag with less than perfect aim. Leigh takes Friend home, then announces that I have to spend the night at her house. She drives back to her place, and parks my car on the street.

Like a stubborn toddler, I refused to get out of the car for 10+ minutes. Leigh had to use the bathroom quite badly, so she picked up my nasty ass and carried me inside. I hit the ground running and bee-lined for the bathroom. In less than 45 seconds, I threw up again, then fell asleep in the toilet. When Leigh tried to pick me up and clean me off, I grab the scarf she wearing. That scarf happened to be an anniversary present from her partner, and swiped it to clean my face. She picked me up a second time, and threw me into her bed. The next thing I remember, it's morning. Awful, hangover, headache morning. I must have looked at her very baffled, but she was ready to tell me exactly why I wasn't home.

Today's recipe is Tequila-free recipe on this happy holiday. Be safe tonight!

[Recipe removed to protect the guilty. Just kidding. Find it in my Cookbook on Amazon or shoot me a persuasive email.]