My wife was in the kitchen and couldn’t see the olla on the floor.  She blushed a little; “do go on” she said.  I quickly whisked the pot away.

On my last trip to the village I had the distinct honor of residing with Nicolas and his lovely wife Gloria in Casas Grandes.  It was actually the first time I had met Nicolas.  After a bit of searching I found his house to have a look at his pottery.  Since he had no finished pieces, he offered to accompany me to his son Leonel’s home. 

In transit he asked me where I was staying.  I had to explain to him that I had not been able to make my usual connections for a room yet.  Nicolas graciously invited me to stay at his home, and assured me his wife would agree.  I couldn’t refuse.  “This is your own home” he often insisted.

During that week I was privileged to become acquainted with Nicolas and Gloria.  Please indulge me while I convey a few of my observations.

First of all, I don’t think you will ever meet two finer human beings.  The friendship they offer and their human warmth and kindness are absolutely genuine.  I know that some of my readers have known them for many years and are shaking their heads in agreement.  On two occasions I tried to offer payment for dinner (Gloria is an exceptional cook).  On both occasions they refused.  Their hospitality was not for sale, and Gloria held nothing back to see that each meal was special, and that I was comfortable.

On one occasion Gloria looked across the table at me perceiving that I was missing my wife and family in Idaho.  The lines in her forehead deepened and her eyes squinted a bit showing sympathetic pain as she said in a caring, maternal tone “Being alone is such a hard thing”.

During one quiet time alone with Nicolas, now 71, he told me of his mother’s tragic death 16 years ago.  She was killed in an auto accident.  “From that time on”, he confided, “I quit two habits.  Drinking… and driving.  Why even take the slightest chance of killing an innocent person, or myself”.  Nicholas wasn’t kidding.  He neither drinks, nor drives.

We retired each night at about 8:00 pm, and Nicolas was up each morning at 3:00.  He fixes a cup of coffee, and takes it into his workshop to begin painting in the quiet of the very early morning while “my eyes are fresh from a good night’s sleep”.

After a morning in Mata Ortiz, I drove up to my host’s house about mid day.  I was surprised to see a lot of his family and friends.  Nicolas was cooking about 10 pounds of beef knuckles in a homemade giant outdoor fryer.  After the meat was good and brown, most of the sizzling grease was removed and Gloria brought out the red chili which had been processed in a blender with garlic.  The liquid chili sauce was carefully poured into the hot sizzling meat for about 15 minutes of further cooking.  We ate bowls of chile colorado with a bountiful supply of those super fresh tortillas you can only find in Mexico.

In the relaxed aftermath of this incredible feast, I asked Nicolas if it was a holiday.  “No” he said, “we just felt like having chile Colorado”

After taking some plates of food to a few of his neighbors he explained that some of the non-potters don’t always have enough money for food.  “But don’t worry, there’s plenty left over, and chile Colorado del Segundo dia” (of the second day) “is always better than the first”.

No wonder I’m looking forward to my upcoming trip.

Always,

Bill Perry