Sunday, April 15, 2007

a new tacito wagon

Last Tuesday when Chouy was here I showed her the photos of Dago's puesto, of her and of Fernando, and of the wagon where we buy our Sunday tacitos. Her eyes popped out, she got very agitated, and said to me in rapid-fire Spanish something that I interpreted to mean:

"Oh my God! Not there! That place is terrible. They use dog meat. You're lucky to be alive!"

Now I must confess I am not certain that's what she said, but I bet it was not far off. So I calmly asked where she thought we should shop instead. As a person who is a true Mexicanophile, who loves this "local color", how am I to choose from the many wagons offering the same menu? She told me that if I really wanted to eat this sort of thing, the one to patronize was thus-and-such. Frankly I think the issue is one of class. No self-respecting wannabe middle-class Mexican family would buy dinner from one of these wagons. They are mainly for the "touristas," meaning folk from Colima and Guadalajara who want a touch of the "authentic" beach culture.

Operating on Chouy's caveat, the Patient and I strolled the whole phalanx of wagons, chose the one I though she had said is the best, and ordered dinner. Here's my critique. Yes, the meat is more tender, there are fewer pieces of gristle, but the beans aren't as good and they don't give you little individual plastic bags holding beans, lettuce, radishes and sauces. But the price is the same, the "sanitation" looks to be the same, and if I die it will be from something other than tough meat.

The Patient got up at 5 AM to bake yet another coffeecake to share with our Canadian friends who took off for home this morning. Then we got phone calls from both Caitlin in Bozeman, MT and from Andrew, about to graduate from Thacher in Ojai. Great to touch base with both.

No disco tonight. Not a peep. Nada. The town has emptied of the Semana Santa and Pasqua visitors and left it in the hands of the locals where, I think, it belongs. The disco shut down at 11:45 last night, due to monumental lack of interest.


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