2 (black) bars (2 of 2): Recipes.

At the next bar of the night, I lock up my bike and pop into this bar with (older) (black) folk in it, and 2 (late 60s) (black) women sitting right by the entrance immediately ask me why I was there, since what the heck was I doing in that neighborhood.

I tell them I was on an evening bike ride, and one immediately was like, "God has to walk with all of us, in this neighborhood."

Then, we started chit-chatting, and one was saying she had just made tequila-lime shrimp as a present for her man, for being together 15 years, and started giving details of cooking with the cream, citrus juice, etc.

Since the bartender had sidled up, she immediately starts showing her pictures of the shrimp on her phone, and I tell the other one that if I had to do that recipe, I'd fuck it up, since I'd cook the cream too hot or curdle it with the citrus juice.

Then, she starts telling me how she makes ground turkey with ginger, and how she likes spices in her cooking.

After that, she starts saying that the other week she was over at her older sister's, who can't cook, and she served up the best something-or-another, and she asked why it tasted so good, and her sister said it was the broth.

"And do you know the secret of the broth?", her older sister was like.

She didn't, and it turned out to be chicken feet.

"I see that look," she immediately told me, since I guess I had an involuntary look of disgust on my face when she said the secret was chicken feet.  "I did the same thing, too!".

After that, her friend rejoined the conversation, and I told about the time my friend dated a Catalan guy and she was the "good girlfriend" and had to suck liquefying pig's hooves from a stew he spent all day over.

"And a month later, too, they broke up," I was like, "So it was all for nothing."

"It's 'cause she was a foo'", the woman's friend was like.  "It wasn't a recipe, it was a test to see if his girlfriend was a foo'.  She didn't pass."