All of my trips to Mexico consisted on how many things we could bring back to the states. Todos tenian encargos and we all wanted a nice stash of goods that would last us for a few months. We always brought back items we couldn’t easily get here. Whatever it took to bring candy, chips, pottery, home decor and even chorizo hidden in our shoes (true story). I know weird and gross, right? Don’t try to act like you didn’t hide a parrot or two under your armpit when crossing the border by car. LOL Anyway, Pinole was another thing we always brought back. “Pinole” is maiz that is toasted and ground very finely with cinnamon and some sugar.
One of my mom’s friends recently returned from Mexico and brought her back Pinole from Michoacan ( I don’t even want to think about where she put it to carry it back into the states. LOL jk ). We decided to use it as an opportunity to record a recipe of Atole de Pinole for our channel. It was soooo tasty but it brought back a memory I had forgotten about, and probably on purpose because it traumatized me. Believe it or not, Pinole can be deadly!!!!! OK OK I’m exaggerating.
My parents didn’t allow my siblings and I to eat too many sweets, so we never had any at home. I even had to secretly add sugar to my cereal because my mother only purchased the most healthy, need I say, flavorless cereals on earth! One day I was craving something sweet so bad, I was tempted to shove a spoonful of sugar down my throat. So, in my search for sweets, I opened up the pantry, and I noticed a little bag of Pinole. It appeared like an imajen from the heavens, shoved way in the back behind the can of Juanita Menudo. With a mischievious grin, I reached far back, pulled out the bag, and began to open it. I could hardly wait to eat it. Quickly, I began pouring the Pinole into my mouth from the bag. I did it quickly to conceal any evidence from my brother and my dad. I scurried to put the bag back and walked away to inconspicuously enjoy the mouthful of delicious Pinole in my backyard. The sweetness of the Pinole was heavenly. But I did not know that the consistency of the Pinole combined with moisture, was the equivalence of trying to whistle while eating a cracker multiplied by 100!!! All that goodness immediately turned into a nightmare. Why did I run off like a wild child with dry Pinole in my mouth? What was I thinking? It was unimaginable! I started to choke on the small granules of the pinole. I couldn’t breath and I wasn’t about to run to my dad to get a whooping! I would rather die a slow pinole death. The white light was quickly approaching… I think it was Je-sus (en español). I don’t think I was ready for heaven, because I miraculously scrambled for anything to cleanse my palette. Fortunately, I was standing by my mangera. I desperately grabbed la mangera, turned on the water, and hosed down my entire mouth and face. I was relieved as the pinole dissolved just in time to catch my breath. El Pinole casi me mato! I have never told anyone about what had happened that day, and since then, I have not tried Pinole in anyway. I have some that my mom left on my kitchen counter. Every time I pass by it, I’m temped to try eating it dry but then the memory of my near death experience stops me.
DI NO AL PINOLE! JK LOL