El sr J used to grimace when I added fish sauce to his "perfectly flavored" sopas in the US. And apparently it's a real travesty to add it to cream soups. I may, however, be addicted to it. When we moved to Mexico, I surreptitiously looked for it in the supermercados, but none of them carried it.
We went to the store behind the market today where el sr J gets Basmati rice
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and other hard-to-find-elsewhere products. This place is almost always crowded and customers have to take a number and wait. Everything is behind the counter--most things are out of sight--and a clerk must take your order and search for your stuff. Then you have to go to the caja, where a more important clerk takes your money and hands you your stuff. So 1940s. I usually sit on a bench and wait. Today, though, nobody else was there. So I piped up and asked, "es algo raro pero hay salsa de pescado?" And the clerk said, "Sí." In fact, she had two kinds, both from Thailand. Here's the one we bought. As my sister says, it doesn't taste like it smells. El sr J thinks that is a distinction without a difference.
Friday night's concert:
The pianist was a young heart-throb. And he played without the score, as in the publicity photo below.
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