Here I stand among mesquite pods, loving the crackle as I plant my foot firmly onto the cream gold bean. That crisp snap – my favorite sound of summer next to the cicada hum.
How many buckets of mesquite pods would need to be ground to satisfy my mesquite waffle love? I’m not sure we have that many buckets. I remember now the boyfriend who scoffed at those who hand-milled the mesquite pods to flour. I laughed lightly as if in agreement. Today, I envy the hand-millers’ strength of conviction that they demand the time in their life to love the mesquite pod.
Mesquite pods of all kinds are strewn across Tucson streets and yards right now. A resource right there for capture, and yet for the most part we let it slip away. There are those that take the time though. Check out the Desert Harvester site. So very cool. Not surprisingly Desert Harvesters are based in the Dunbar Springs neighborhood of Tucson.
A few years back we took part in a fabulous fest, a going away party for our friends. There was a competition, two fine chefs battling for the title of Iron Chef of Tucson. Well at least Iron Chef of the Astronomy gang. The secret ingredient, pork. It was incredible. One of the many dishes? Mesquite waffles with maple pecan ice cream and bacon. They were exquisite.