Prickly Pear Margaritas and Bull What?

Homemade cards and backyard BBQs in the warm desert evenings gave way to carefree dinners where all we had to do was eat and pay the check. I have plenty of Mother’s Day memories because after all, I’ve got a few of those special days under my belt. Who would have thought my favorite Mother’s Day memory would surround prickly pear margaritas and bull’s balls? On one particular Mother’s Day a number of years ago when Al asked where I’d like to go for dinner I told him El Corral. It’s a steakhouse restaurant in Tucson that’s been around forever and I’ve always loved the vibe there. It’s so Tucson and the restaurant is very western and housed in a historic territorial ranch house.

So arrangements were made and each of my kids were told when to show up and that they were welcome to bring their significant others along if they didn’t have plans of their own. As you can imagine, the restaurant was packed. The management had opened a quaint, little rustic building across the parking lot for guests to wait in and enjoy a cocktail or two. The Mother’s Day special was a prickly pear margarita and the occasion called for a little bit of imbibing. If memory serves me correctly I don’t think my youngest was quite of legal drinking age yet but she and her boyfriend were being served (Oh, my bad. Am I not supposed to admit that?) Soon enough (and after a round or two) the eight of us were ushered in to the restaurant and given a nice table. It was a celebration so naturally….another round! We had such a great time laughing, telling stories and enjoying our time together. Food and appetizers were ordered and when the appetizers came out and were plunked down on the table we all froze. There they sat all breaded and hot with lemons and dipping sauces.

Rocky Mountain Oysters. Cattle testicles. Bull balls. More laughter, plenty of dares and jokes but we all ate them, or at least had one bite. Then we had our delicious meals of prime rib, steaks and blue corn tamale pie. When dinner was nearing an end we ordered one last round when our waiter told us they could no longer serve us. Wait, what? We were being cut off? In all truthfulness we seriously only had three drinks each TOPS and they were probably just trying to turn the table over but we thought it was riotously funny. So my best Mother’s Day memory is of high hilarity, being refused drinks and bull balls. Beat that!