Kernels, verdad — what’s the diff?

Sometimes a corncob is not just a corncob. A new Mexican cookbook has crossed my desk, by someone whose name I had never heard and with a rather ridiculous premise. Diana Kennedy worked very hard to make it so, but the cuisine on the southern side of the border really does not involve brain surgery. Now here’s a half-nekkid kid out to turn quesadillas into bouillabaisse when it comes to complexity. I guess if a publisher wants to convey a message of “uno, dos, tres” recipes, bare boozums struggling to burst out of a party dress on a cover are the best offense. And certainly her pulchritude is a far sight more alluring than Paula Deen’s exhibitionist ass (I would call it a lardass, but that would be a diss on a very honorable fat). The very vision of that must have had people dreaming of pouring hot butter into their eye sockets.