There was a mystery entrée on my aunt’s dinner plate in the nursing home. It looked sort of like a hunk of meatloaf sandwiched between two pieces of yellowish sandpaper.
Was it lasagna? Or maybe a sad attempt at enchiladas? My aunt seemed to recall that whatever this main course was, it had a fancy Spanish name ...
Want to read more?
Subscribers: Click here and enter your customer number to read full department in our online Digital Edition.
Not a subscriber? Click here to subscribe today.