The Feasting Place
On a recent morning, I drove north of Santa Fe with the gold of cottonwoods flashing their fall party dresses, a sparkling blue sky framing their silhouettes. Reflecting on my love of this landscape as I drove, memories of childhood travel to New Mexico settled into my consciousness. It is a visual, sensual impressionistic memory of a New Mexico fall: the car window rolled down slightly, the smell of pinon, the deep red of chile ristras, and the occasional appearance of a large, earth colored gum drop dotting the landscape near homes along the road. Long ago I learned that these bumps are actually outdoor ovens or “ hornos” and for centuries in Pueblo culture, fires were built in these adobe ovens to bake meats, breads and pastalitos or pastries such as our state cookie, the Biscochito. Our family trips were punctuated with stops at Route 66 tourist sites where I also recall first purchasing my very own miniature horno.
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