Migas, a tale of heart break.
19 years old, freshly broken hearted and soaking wet, Hemp Cook Aaron approached the door of a fairly recent acquaintance. Several missed connections and a long walk, face to face with the mother of three, tears fell from his cheeks. In the preceding weeks, he and his high school sweet heart had decided to part ways after nearly four years. Comforts he came to take for granted dissolved into the ether overnight and in this rainy Portland twilight he walked alone.
The mother invited him in and immediately embraced the weeping young man. That night, he fell asleep on the foot of her bed.
The next morning, she gingerly woke him up and began making breakfast. It was a humble tex-mex scrambled eggs. In a cast iron pan, she heated butter until it was nearly brown, laying hand torn tortillas onto the hot, glistening, black surface. As they became golden and crispy came onions and garlic. A few aromatics and some chorizo later she began to pour eggs into the pan filled with incredible smells and the bright red and spicy grease rendering out of the Spanish sausage. Everything in the world was right, if only in those few moments, food healed a wound that only time could manage.
Something about this humble breakfast has always brought the Hemp Cook a sense of comfort. It represents how food might just fill more than our stomach.
- Hemp Cook Aaron