Cheers, to Mistura.

My dear Sirs and Gentle-ladies, I am a proud person, although, I have a love/hate relationship with my stubborn attitude. But I have no shame in admitting that I am

Mistura 2015, my premeditated worries.

   Folks, I am heartbroken. It may seem rash, over exaggerated even. But the manifestation of my gastronomic dogma has dissipated into a complacent fabrication of grease and the communal

Masturi-my-sake

          Every year the APJ (Peruvian Japanese Association) holds a festival to celebrate their culture, food, popular music, and menagerie with the Peruvian people they find themselves surrounded by.

The misuse of Mistura

   In my youth I learned that food was diverse. My mom shoved pita bread topped with hummus down my throat and lamb patties with mint jelly would decorate a Tuesday