"It's Cinco de Mayo, dude! Where's my marg?"
Margaritas are lovely, yes, but sometimes the liver needs a break. And Mexico, of course, is no one-trick culinary pony. In fact, while ambling through the famously taco- and torta-laden neighborhood of Sunset Park, Brooklyn, last weekend, a compadre proselytized wildly about a maple-walnut popsicle right before running into traffic to lead us to the deli where it lived.
Traditionally no friend to the walnut unless it is candied, we were inclined to pass. Then we noticed that in this popsicle, walnuts were a minor player relegated to the stick end of the treat. We politely accepted a small bite. And then another.
And then we turned on our heel and ran back to the deli to rummage frantically through the cooler gleaming on the sidewalk: mango-lime, pistachio, egg nog. Egg nog?! Walnut! Where was it? Pops flew everywhere as, like a dog frantically chasing a mole burrowing underground, we went shoulder-deep into the icy cooler. Thank the stars, a lone, innocuous "nuez" pop remained.
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