My wife’s mother makes the best menudo in the world. Or so I am told. Frankly, I am not qualified to pass judgment on that local delicacy. It is an acquired taste which I have yet to acquire. Readers who know me can imagine my delight when my amorcito announced that she and her mama were going into business together, selling menudo out of our house. Traditionally, menudo is prepared on Saturday so it’s all ready to be served piping hot at the crack of dawn Sunday. My mother-in-law, (mi suegra), insists that firewood must be used to heat the olla to give it that authentic flavor. Just exactly how this authentic flavor enters a covered pot remains a mystery to me, but it certainly comes out tasting authentic. But, as I say, I’m no expert and if further blackening of the old cauldron with soot contributes to that authenticity, well pile up the kindling and throw some tarpaper and lighter fluid on there too for seasoning. We wouldn’t want a clean gas flame ruining that exquisite cowbelly stew. (Oops! I just revealed the secret ingredient. If you read it, you have performed an illegal operation and will be shot down.) They say Pepperidge Farms and Mrs. Fields started their businesses out of their own kitchens, so anything is possible. It was all so exciting, all the hustle and bustle and rattling of pots and pans, Sra Brady and her mother chopping and dicing and shouting back and forth, running in and out to the fire pit with