Barbara's Genealogy Search

That, Ain't Hamburger!

Back in July 1980, our entire family moved to Hermosillo, Mexico on a foreign assignment with one of the auto companies.  Despite earlier doubts, we quickly adapted to the warm and friendly culture.  Our new friends were more than happy to show us the better places in town to eat and shop.  As luck would have it, my husband shared the same first name as the local butcher and owner of the meat market.  In Mexico, this made them “Tocayo’s” and immediate buddies. 

One particular weekend, we were preparing for a party at our home, and I sent Michael to the butcher shop to get two kilos (about 5 lbs.) of ground beef along with a few other items that we needed.  When he returned from the butcher, he placed a large plastic bag on the counter and started to walk away.  I opened the bag and immediately stopped him in his tracks.  “What is this?”

He replied, “Its hamburger.  I asked for 2 kilo’s of hamburger and there it is.”  He was quite proud of himself, but my response was quick and firm; “THAT, ain’t hamburger!”  He tried to dissuade me, “Honey, it just looks different here in Mexico because it’s so fresh!”

Though most of the rumors about Mexico are not true, one is; some people do eat horse and burro meat.  This is not by culinary choice but mainly due to the fact that other meats are less expensive than beef.  Like wild game, horse and/or burro meat have a much darker color than beef, and this meat was very dark.  In addition, it had a unique smell.  I told Michael he had to take the meat back and get me beef.  He was certain I was wrong and that the meat just wasn’t as finely ground as I was used to, or maybe they feed cows differently in Mexico.  He was sure that it would taste fine in my Lasagna!

At this point, our maid, Hilda, came into the kitchen.  Although she couldn’t understand English, she knew that there was a big “to do” about the meat.  After some explanation, she checked the bag and then looked at my husband and said, “Lo siento Senior, esso no es carne de res.”  Loosely, “I’m sorry sir, but that ain’t hamburger!” 

Still thinking that both of us were mad, he reluctantly returned to the butcher shop with bag in hand.  He was sure that his buddy Miguel would prove him right.  When he entered the market, the owner greeted Michael as always.  But, he looked perplexed that Michael was bringing meat into the store instead of carrying it out.  Embarrassed, Michael explained his plight and placed the bag on the counter top.  The owner quickly glanced at it and then explained, “Any time you come in here, you only buy meat from me, and if I’m not here, leave!” 

Miguel ordered one of his helpers to clean the grinder, and he quickly went into the back for a side of meat.  Typically, he carved, sawed, and sliced everything in front of you and gave you a choice of how and where the cuts came from.  A fresh chunk of meat went into the newly cleaned grinder, and the two Tocayo’s, with a new understanding of local customs, averted disaster on the home front.