I was born on May 5th in the suburbs of Philadelphia far, far away from any Cinco de Mayo celebrations.  And even though Californians and Mexicans have been celebrating it since 1863, the year after the Mexican army defeated the French at the Battle of Puebla, I’d never heard of it until I moved to California in 1979.  And even after 30 years of living in Southern California, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a “display” set up in a grocery store like the one I saw in Gelson’s in Westlake Village.  It was set up where they have other holiday displays.  They do the pumpkin pie cans with other baking stuff starting in October, turkey pans and boxes of stuffing for Thanksgiving, stocking stuffers and candy canes for Christmas, noisemakers and champagne for New Year’s Eve, you get the idea right?  Well, I’m sure I’ve seen displays for Cinco de Mayo before, where the chips, salsa, margarita mixers and tequila are set out to entice shoppers to get “loco,” in the San Fernando Valley or maybe even at Jon’s in Simi Valley.  But I was quite surprised to find such a huge display in Whitelake Village, I mean Westlake Village and of all places, a Gelson’s.  But then again, Cinco de Mayo is a drinking holiday and we do live in the United States where Super Bowl Sunday has become as big of a holiday as Mother’s Day.  But I digress, I was actually excited to see the big “Cinco de Mayo” sign hanging down from the ceiling and recalled a time where I’d want to own that sign.  It would have gone rather nicely with the life-sized, cardboard, Mariachi player I used to own and hang up at my annual Cinco de Mayo parties.

The party tradition began a couple of decades ago not only to celebrate my birthday but as an excuse to drink margaritas until we fell over.  There are lots of memories of those parties; well at least the pictures remind me of that, I’m not sure I actually remember anything from them.  What I do know though is that I like getting in touch with my inner “Mexicana.”  One of my first boyfriends was Mexican American and he introduced me to authentic Mexican food.  His family made tamales at Christmas time, his mother used lard in almost every meal, and he took me to Olvera Street to experience the best taquitos and burritos on the planet.  He assured me it was okay to eat the hot dogs wrapped with bacon off the barbeque carts in Ensenada and took me to a Mexican restaurant on St. Patrick’s Day every year, so we could see the waiters wear big buttons that said, “Irish I Were Mexican.”  He had a huge family that was warm, affectionate and traditional just like my familia.

Now as the years have gone by some things have changed.  I don’t drink anymore and I shy away from birthday celebrations but one thing hasn’t changed; mi amore for Mexican tradition and culture.  I love the passionate people, the rhythm of Latin music, the language and of course the food.  Anyone who’s ever heard me gush about Demian Bichir, the Mexican Mayor on “Weeds,” or Julio at Del Taco can attest to my passion for the people while Ozomatli, Santana and Veronica’s “Spanglish” at work make me smile.

I’m grateful to celebrate Cinco de Mayo as well as every other “holyday.”  I am so blessed.  I hear up in Seattle some friends even named a dish after me “Linda Latta Enchiladas.”  I can’t wait to try them someday!