Ramona was in rare form. Since she had come to this country, she had been trying everything with an avid enthusiasm, taking in all the sights, the sounds, the flavors. But she was feeling a little homesick. Dressed rather plainly, she made her way to the local grocer. It took some haggling and compromise, but she eventually had all the ingredients she would need to make mojo pork. 

Arriving back to her apartment with groceries in tow, she first tossed everything on the counter. She reached for an apron she had hanging on the kitchen wall. She pulled her dark, thick hair into a plait to rest over her shoulder, a few careless strands framing her face. Feeling prepared, she got started. First she salted the pork shoulder and set it aside to rest while she prepared the marinade.

In a large bowl, she squeezed several oranges and a few limes, chasing that with vinegar and olive oil. Beneath the flat of a chef's knife blade she crushed a handful of peppercorns, then deftly minced several cloves of garlic. She roughly chopped a bunch of cilantro, then stripped the leaves of a few sprigs of oregano and tossed that, along with a healthy pinch of salt, into the marinade. Next, she added a healthy pinch of ground cumin, then stirred the marinade until smooth. After tasting for the level of salt, she sliced and orange and added the whole slices to the bowl and then gently laid the pork shoulder into the marinade. 

Ramona felt in her element when she cooked. Wielding a knife in the kitchen was just as natural as holding one to an opponent's throat. Satisfied with her work, she covered the bowl and set it aside to marinate. Knowing that more time meant fuller flavor, she decided to remove her apron, throw on a coat and go for a walk. 

Ramona returned two hours later. As she walked through the door she was greeted by the smell of citrus and cumin, and it was heavenly. Eager to get started, she tossed her coat down and pulled the apron back on. She lit the oven to allow it to warm. It wasn't easy getting a shithole apartment that also had an oven, but it paid to have connections when you're this new in town. She also set a pan to warm as she readied her braising dish.

Once her pan was warm, she put a quick drop of oil and then set the pork onto the pan. As the meat met heat, there was a rush of aroma to accompany the loud sizzle. Ramona let the meat sear as she prepped onions and peppers. Turning the meat as each side browned she was satisfied once it was fully covered in a rich sear. She removed the meat and replaced it with the vegetables. 

Once the peppers and onions were soft, she re-added the meat and then poured in some of the marinade, bringing it to a boil. Once boiling, she covered the dish and put it in the oven to braise. 

By the time the dish was done braising, it was well into the evening. Ramona had lit the lone candle on her table. The whole apartment smelled like home. She had already made some rice to go with the dish, and was practically filled with glee as she pulled the pork from the oven. The smell was just intoxicating! Her mouth watered as she set the dish on the counter. Carefully, she shaved away a serving of meat to be placed over a bed of rice. She made sure to scoop herself a heap of the peppers and onions, and topped it all off with a spoonful of the juices. 

Sitting down to her meal, she almost dug right in. It was so right...and yet...

She could feel something was missing. Perhaps it was two fingers of really fine tequila. But more likely it was just some good company that would have made the meal perfect. 

Ramona allowed herself to begin eating, taking slow, deliberate bites so that she could savor every moment of it. Or maybe it was in case some company decided to surprise her with a visit. She chewed slowly as she let herself consider which it was...

Mr.Luciano usually opened all of the windows in his little studio apartment in the evenings. He liked to feel the city exhale and catch the rare star as the evening progressed into darkness. This evening he had opened only one window. He sat there now reading ‘Excursions’ by Thoreau. Thoreau always made him think of home. Some unnamed state road, winding and twisting into a forest of tall pine and sturdy oak on a muggy Southern afternoon. A porch in the evening, not a word from a passing car, not an angry taxi horn. Silence. Yet it was different somehow. If you searched deep enough into the silence in the country you found it coursing with life. Nature herself, pulsing, growing from itself, and destroying itself.

Mr.Luciano exhaled.

A breeze drifted though the open window and he caught the scent of the wild, just a touch. Enough for him to set his book down and examine that wonderful breeze even more. Pork. He laughed to himself. They always said back home that “We eat every part of the pig; we’d eat the squeal if we could find it too.” You can bet that wasn’t always said in jest either. Mr.Luciano knew the smell well, especially the onions and peppers. His stomach rolled at the thought of the salted meat and beans that were to be tonight’s feast. 

If you compared Mr.Luciano’s pantry to his liquor cabinet you’d probably say he deserved the bland meat, and dry beans. He bent down to a small one door night stand next to his bed and pulled out a bottle of Clase Azul Reposado he had gotten as a gift the previous Christmas. Good Tequila was hard to come by in these parts, surely a good trade for a plate of pork. He was slightly ashamed as he didn’t have any glasses, he usually took his pulls straight from the bottle. But he started towards the door with tequila in hand anyways. 

Once in the hallway the scent gained a hint of citrus, and the heat of the building itself intensified the lingering smell of meat. The scent of a home cooked meal guided Mr. Luciano three doors down from his own flat.

He heisitated at the door. Cleared his throat. Then rapped at the door with his right middle knuckle three times. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

While Ramona had been aching for some company she still found herself startled by the knocks at the door. Setting her utinsels and napkin down, she strolled over. Pulling the door open, she saw MrLuciano standing there, a bottle in hand. 

"What a pleasant surprise," she purred. "By the looks of that bottle, I'd say you're here for dinner. Let me make you a plate!"

And with that she guided MrLuciano in, taking his coat and his bottle and ushering him to the table.

"Here, have a seat while I make you a plate." She hung his coat and strutted to the kitchen. The food was still hot and steaming, and Ramona was pleased to be able to share it with someone. She dipped him a healthy portion, grabbed two glasses along with the bottle in hand and made her way back to the table. 

She set the steaming plate in front of him, then examined the bottle before pouring them both a glass. 

"This is a nice tequila," she commented. She took a sip and savored it. "I am surprised you could find some. Most of what is here, I wouldn't even call tequila. Is there a story behind it?" She looked up at him expectantly as she resumed eating.