Menudo is far and away the best part of Latin culture. It is a sum much greater than its parts, and I'm not talking about Ricky Martin. To the uninitiated, it is a hodge-podge of castoff ingredients: tripe, patas (NOT optional - no matter what the recipe says), hominy, oregano chile, etc. etc.... But to us Mexicans, menudo is a testament to our fortitude, our strength, our family and our homes.

To Begin, there isn't one Latino alive who will not defend his mother's recipe as the best to his very death. And too bad for those poor saps, because MY mother's is the best. Despite the cost of making this seasonal dish, which today can be considerable, menudo was founded among the poorest of campesinos, who had nothing better to eat than stomach and feet. The best cuts of meat went to the estate owners, while the peasants were lucky to get the offal. Stomach, intestines, brain, tail and hooves made up the only meats available to the poor in pre-revolutionary Mexico. The soup they made of these cast-off ingredients has since become a favorite through much of Mexico and the southwestern part of the United States.

Menudo means a lot of different things to me. It reminds me of my grandpa Victor. Not only did he love the dish, but so did one of his favorite TV characters, Fred Sanford. It reminds me of the Raiders' hey day. My mother having made what seemed to me the most gigantic pot for the Super Bowl in 1980 and 1983. Victory never tasted so sweet. It cures what ails you, whether it be a minor throat irritation or a raging hang over. It is a legacy I hope to pass onto my own children, through their palates and through careful discernment of good menudo (their grandmother's) and bad menudo (nearly any other slop).

Don't forget to click on the picture and see this week's daily pics. Like menudo, they are a hodge podge of the most precious meats I've been given. I have yet to add the hominy, but there will be plenty in coming weeks.