I've Always Had a Thing for Pineapples.

 Video: Don't you know her shoulders ache?

When we went to Honduras to dive with Joy and Robert, Ev stopped for us in a pineapple field where each lovely fruit was wrapped in its own little special condom to keep it blemish free as it grew. It was the first time I'd ever contemplated how they grew. We ate the sweetest pineapples that trip, the ones that have too high of a sugar content to be exported. My first alcoholic drink  (thanks, dad!) was a "Barker Special" made with frozen pineapple juice and lime. I love pineapple. It makes my kombucha fizzy and even though it's not a thistle, it looks like one. "Thistle" has always been my favorite geometric shape.

Our neighboring state, the great state of Michoacan, is the home of many talented artisans. I saw ceramic pineapples there for the first time when we went for Dia de los Muertos in October. I saw them again at a big art fair given in Chapala in November. I wanted. Unlike my mom, I'm no good at pressure shopping. The venues were crowded and I knew I was going to need time and space to select the perfect complement of pineapples to march down the center of my table.

Two weeks ago, I looked up the premier pineapple artisan in Mexico. I had seen him featured in a coffee table book at my hair salon. Lo and behold, Helario's town, San Jose de Gracias is right near a little alpine town we like to go to when it's hotter than blue blazes here. We drove to the town. Not a pineapple in sight. "No Senora, we don't work the pinas here, we work the vacas, the leche, the crema y queso. Well, poop.

Last week, I called the maestro himself. "Helario," said I. "I couldn't find you among the cows." Oh. What do you know. It's a San Jose de Gracias two hours away in a different direction. Ev and I set out again, this time armed with excellent directions. Helario said, "when you get to my village drive until you see the blue door, if you don't see the blue door then ask for me so anyone can lead you to my house." Evdad was dubious, but it all worked out. The blue porton was the first thing we saw when we drove in to town.

This man digs the clay with his wife and son. They beat it into submission, then fire it twice in the adobe pit. (yes, the one with the motorcycle helmet on it). See the woodpile? He hacks that up too. Amazing industrious man. This year, my Albuquerque friends, he will be in Santa Fe at the Folk Art Museum summer show. If you go, say hola de parte de Susan!

Helario lives in the pink home with his children and grandchildren. The little guy with the fresh haircut was showing me his kinder papers, reading the labels on the pictures he colored all the while telling me he couldn't read because he was too little.

An added bonus, the local townspeople also use the clay to make bricks. Ev and I thought Harvey should know how bricks are made and fired so we stopped to ask if we could take pictures.  See how they stack the bricks so they can build a fire under them? See how they put a layer of adobe on the brick pile to keep the heat in? People are smart.

The beautiful church was in the city of Zamora. We could see it from the highway, its so huge.  It was started in 1898, the construction was interrupted in 1914 during the Revolution. The subsequent Cristero war (intended to eliminate the power of the Catholic church) didn't help matters either. This beautiful thing was finally finished by a tenacious bishop in 1989. More about that here.

Then we saw a printing press and a tortilla press and our field trip came to a sweet conclusion with a lunch of Carne en su Jugo and about 2 dozen tortillas.