It had the air of an illicit deal…money was wired to an account. A rendezvous point was chosen—the Tête Carré (square head), a day and a time. But this deal involved some freshly made corn tortillas.
Once we got the butchers’ schedule more or less figured out (the photos of their hours still inhabit my phone, just in case), we informally moved on to the second and more serious job–who has the best roast chicken?
