Thai Noodle Wave - Frisco, TX

Thai Noodle Wave.  Frisco, TX

Normally, I don’t review chains but when I first ate here, I didn’t know it was a chain.  If you’re going to eat at a chain Thai place, this is it.

Thai Noodle Wave is a new style Thai place with some seriously good food.  The process of getting to your table is easy.  A sign says to wait.  The decorations are interesting.  A giant tree silhouette climbs the far wall and is back lit with green.  Some spore like balls hang from the ceiling other places.  I try not to giggle as the words “dangling balls” run through my mind.  The kitchen is partially open to the restaurant so you can hear the sizzle, smell the food, but can’t really make sure the cook isn’t playing paper, scissor, rock with a homeless guy between dishes.

The waiter brings me water with lemon.  This bugs me.  I don’t like fruit in my water but it’s so common now that I may only take off half a point.

Normally I’d order a Pad Thai.  It’s a classic but I’m in the mood for curry.  I ordered a Southern Sweet Curry.

Lord. Have. Mercy.

A sweet coconut curry with layers of heat that spread evenly across my tongue, potatoes and carrots that are warm but still firm to the tooth, and a pile of yellow, sweet rice piled in the middle.  At first bite, I was ready to date it.  Halfway through and this dish could have had its way with me and I wouldn’t have even asked it to be gentle. By the end, I needed a cigarette.  

I came back a few days later, nervously looking over my shoulder to make sure no coworkers were present.  I asked for a side of pineapple to go with this.  The cold, sweet, acidic fruit melded perfectly with this dish.  I immediately began to unbutton my shirt but the waiter threatened to call the police so I refrained and blamed it on the heat of the dish.

I ordered a fruit smoothie to go.  Lychee.  Sounds like Leech-ee.  It was extremely sweet.  It had floral notes to it.  I need to actually eat a real lychee so I have a base line to go from.  Up until today, I thought it was a made up flavor for yogurt and bubble tea places.  Who knew?

I give Thai Noodle Wave a 10 out of 10.  This is not a traditional Thai place.  Don’t come here looking for authentic.  When you do visit, make sure you can get to confession shortly after and don’t forget your smokes.

Happy eating, y’all.

The Hot Spot BBQ - Pensacola, FL

The Hot Spot - Pensacola, FL.

Writing a review on BBQ is like talking about art: everyone has an opinion, is entitled to that opinion, and feels strongly about their opinion.  But since I’m the one with the food blog and 5 subscribers (love you, Mom) my opinion will be king.

The Hot Spot, at first smell, was promising.  They had a smoker out front and were burning real wood.  I couldn’t tell if it was hickory or mesquite.  I’m partial to mesquite but, again, art... When you walk in the establishment, you immediately feel at home.  Nothing pretentious about it.  There were no signs telling to be seated or to wait but one of the waitresses yelled to sit anywhere we like... I guess that’s sort of like signage.

My girlfriend and I sat down and that was when points began to fly off the ticker.  Each and every table has its own personal mirror.  Through the duration of the meal, I kept catching a glimpse of some fat guy staring at me and then I would realize it was me.  

The waitress brought our drink orders.  I got sweet tea. The GF didn’t.  I forgot to explain to her that sweet tea is to BBQ what wine is to communion.  You just can’t have one without the other.  The sweet tea was liquid diabeetus.  Probably 2 cups sugar to the gallon.  Normally, I’d count off for too much sugar but, y’all, it’s sweet tea.  If you don’t have a cavity by the end, it’s not sweet enough.

I always order brisket and turkey when I go to a new BBQ place.  Brisket is the standard and Turkey is so hard to cook well that if they can nail turkey, they get my salute.  Hot Spot only BBQ’s chicken... not turkey.  I just got the brisket and my two vegetables: potato salad and mac and cheese.  (Little known fact: at BBQ restaurants, mac and cheese turns into broccoli inside you.  It’s like transubstantiation only way less creepy) 

I think the decorations were ok.  I say “think” because every time I glanced up, I saw the mirror and felt the guilt.  I’ll hit the gym soon, I promised myself.

The food finally came.  

If you are from Texas, and know BBQ, I’d like to offer a trigger warning.  You will need to go to a safe space.

MY BRISKET HAD THE SAUCE ALREADY ON IT!

Who does that?

Brisket should be tender enough to cut with a fork and should still have liquified fat oozing from it.  The edges should have plenty of char on it and the rub should enhance the flavor of the meat.  The sauce, if you choose to use it, should technically bring out the smokiness, provide a little heat to light up the back of the tongue, and even add some sweet for the tip but never, and I repeat, NEVER should brisket be served with sauce on it.  That’s like giving an artist a canvas with a picture already painted.  It’s like giving an author a written book and just asking him to come up with names.  It’s like telling your kid that Old Yeller dies at the end of the movie.  You should have control over the quality of your experience.  To make matters worse, I tried to eat the brisket with my right eye closed so I wouldn’t see my reflections and I ended up shoving the brisket in my left nostril.  I guess my equilibrium is off.  

The mac and cheese was good.  Easily the best part of the main course.  The cheese was real and the roux base was not too gluey.  I would have preferred a stronger cheese or even the addition of nutmeg but that’s just my taste in art.  The potato salad was non-committal.  The salt level was good but the mustard base was lacking.  Potatoes are perfect vessels for carrying flavor.  A good potato salad will have a strong mustard flavor punctuated by the sour notes of vinegar either in pickles or relish. This one reminded me of leftover beef stew potatoes floating in yellow river silt.

The waitress asked if we wanted pie.  The man in the mirror said no but the man with the love handles said yes.  I ordered a lemon pie.

This was the star of the show.  

Homemade, flakey crust.  Creamy custard filling chilled to perfection.  Bright lemon flavor that made you salivate without making you pucker.  And whipped topping, not merengue.  I hate merengue.  I assured the man in the mirror that this was worth cheating for.  I even punctuated my point with some foodgasm noises.

The GF rolled her eyes, asked me to stop talking to my reflection, and said the pie was very tasty.  *sigh.  I guess the Mona Lisa is nice.

Sauce aside, the brisket was sufficiently tender and juicy.  I would have preferred more char.  I give The Hot Spot a 6 out of 10.  Leave the sauce on the side, sharper cheese, and use real mustard (not the fake yellow stuff).

Bonus point: you get a free cookie on your first visit.  

Happy eating, y’all.

The Leisure Club coffe shop and cafe - Pensacola, FL

I had the pleasure of spending Valentine's weekend with my girlfriend in Pensacola.  I was coming off of a busy performance season and didn't have too much time to plan things so I told her we were going to do all the cliche things boyfriends and girlfriends do.  We went for a long walk on the beach, we had a picnic on the beach, we watched black and white Clark Gable movies, and, of course, we ate food.  Here is one of the places we ate.
The Leisure Club is a coffee shop and cafe that is decorated to look like a 60's lounge only with the same historical detail usually reserved for high school girls on 80's dress up during spirit week. The lime green chairs hit you with the subtlety of a Jr. High boy wearing Axe body spray and the tables, made of plywood and piping makes you think that whoever chose the decor was either color blind or just gave up.  I remove points for that much visual stimulation before coffee.
The sign telling you where to order was a tad confusing.  I think it's natural for most people to walk to the back of the cash register to order.  This had you go to the side... I think.  Since there was no one in front of us, we ordered in the space we thought best and since condescending looks are just part of the coffee shop experience, we payed no attention to the judgmental stares.  I ordered a frittata and a coffee with cream.  My girlfriend ordered a croissant.

Back in my early days of living alone, I made many a frittata.  It can be any combo of flavors you like all balanced in a thin layer of egg.  I think the flavors should shine above the egg but not over power them completely.  The eggs themselves should be connected together in more of a silky pancake look than a mass of scrambled egg.  This frittata was the size of a flat quiche.  It's stratta of egg made me think that it had been over beaten before being added to the pan.  The masterful flavors of mushrooms and sausage ended up being paper thin slices of something brown laid on top.  If there was cheese, it was precious little.  The texture of the frittata was somewhere between a new Michelin tire and the skin of a retiree living in Miami under a bridge.  The center was cooler than the rest... I think they microwaved it.  Eggs, like kittens, should NEVER be microwaved.  Once they lose their fluffy texture, you can't get it back.  It's time to start fresh and make a new dish.  The coffee was tolerable.  It was more alkaline than acidic.  I can't claim to be a coffee expert.  I like mine the color of Jennifer Lopez or Beyonce in Pink Panther (rather creamy white).
My girlfriend said her croissant was good.  I could get no other descriptors from her.  I'm still working on her, though.  In the end, I was caffeinated and full and what more could you ask from a neo 60s lounge/lodge/home made modern coffee shop? The bathroom hand dryer had the virility of an 80 year old diabetic.  I dried my hands on my pants after 10 seconds of conducting under the anemic stream.
I give the Lounge 5 out of 10.  The price point was good and the people watching was great.  Points off for process, decoration, bathroom, taste, texture... ah heck, I'll give it a 3.  Don't go here, people. And if you do, take your own hand towels and breakfast food.  The coffee is ok to buy.

happy eating, y'all.

Simply Thai Bistro

Simply Thai: a restaurant review.
I am relatively new to the world of Thai cooking. I love it more and more each time I have it. That being said, my take on Thai may be all wrong. It would serve me right, I guess, to garner a look of disdain from a Thai connoisseur for my review when I do the same thing each time says Great Wall of China buffet is so good and so authentic.
Keep that in mind and let your insults be tempered with a grain of salt. Any more than a grain and I'm counting off.
Simply Thai sits in a shopping strip in old town Frisco near a barber shop and travel agency. You can see the crowd of day laborers across the street when you run in. It's a good sign and worthy of note that too much money thrown at food usually ends up with a black truffle infused moose  turd  on a fancy bed of risotto. Yes, people pay for it but art dies a little.
You order from a counter once you make it in without getting shanked. The menu is basically fried rices, noodles, and curries. I ordered pineapple curry with chicken. I am asked what heat level.
Now, I'm a believer in small government and few regulations but if there's one thing I could get behind regulating, it would be the heat scale of Asian food. Latin foods may tear up your stomach a little but Asian foods can sear your larynx and cause some serious damage to your sinuses too. I ordered a level 2 hoping it was out of 10 and not 5.
The gentleman taking my order asked what I wanted to drink. I said water. I'm guessing "water" when translated, means "nothing. I'm good." Because I never got a water or glass.

The food came and was incredible. A little on the sweet side but it didn't overpower the pineapple. The veggies in the curry were hot but still crunchy. No garnish here. Just good food. The chicken was perfectly cooked. Tender, no fatty chunks, and it tasted like...wait for it... Chicken. Salt levels were good. I'm guessing they use fish sauce with their coconut milk.
The rice, however, was a tad dry but once you add it to the curry, it was fine. I prefer rice to be a bit sticky so I have the option of eating it with chopsticks and not a spoon. How else are you supposed to prove culinary superiority over non Asian food eating friends if you don't get to use your chopsticks?
The heat level was a bit low. I'm going to order a 3 next time. Living on the edge here. I would like a chart explaining the levels of heat. I'm guessing the question of heat is just a formality and they have code words for, "white guy. He's nice. Be kind" and "white guy. No tip. Light him up."

The one thing I must count off for is decor. I've noticed that a lot of Asian restaurants love decorations. I'm sure it looks great the first week but you have to dust these things and I'm guessing no one does. Also, Buddha is creepy. He's like a fat clown at a circus staring at your corn dog. To make it worse, he looks like he's about to do something inappropriate  on the floor or counter where he sits. If I wanted a half naked fat guy perving on me when I ate, I'd order takeout from the Craig's List personals.
Restaurant decor should be simple, easily cleaned, cleaned often, and preferably something without eyes. The clutter was overwhelming.

Good food, easy ordering process, good prices: Simply Thai will get my patronage again. Tons of clutter, ambiguous heat scale, and no self serve water counts against it slightly.

I give it an 8 out of 10.

Happy eating, y'all. 

Texas Kabob House: a restaurant review.
I was excited to see the Texas kabob house in Frisco mainly because I thought I'd eaten at every restaurant and then I realized I was wrong. I was also excited because I've never been to a kabob place and so it was sure to be a new culinary experience.
I have to be honest with you and say that I have no standard with witch to judge kabobs so if any of my friends know what kabobs are supposed to taste like and can tell me a restaurant nearby, the next kabob review will be more informed. For this trip, all I had were my preconceived notions of what I'd find.
I fully expected it to be dark, smell of hookah, and have an old turbaned man in the corner roasting a camel's leg over the remnants of an American flag while the screams of a tortured Cold War agent wafted from the back kitchen. I was not expecting friendly service, either. In fact, my trip would be successful if I left there with out a shank in my side and my name off an FBI watchlist.
Imagine my surprise when I walked into a well lit, cozy environment with smiling waitstaff behind the in-room kitchen. I was seated by a waitress who used half of her English telling me to sit wherever I wanted. I told her it was my first time there and she smiled and asked what type of beer I wanted. I looked over the menu and decided on a yogurt dip with pita for starters and a beef kabob for entree. I'll not try to say the name of the entree because when I told her, she laughed and tried to coach me on the correct pronunciation. I can only assume that if spoken incorrectly, it means Goat's balls and I don't want to offend anyone. The entree did come with half a side of rice and half a side of salad.
The yogurt dip was light, creamy without being watery, and a good balance of yogurt taste to cucumber. I would have preferred more mint. But I don't know if that's how it should taste. The pita was perfection. It reminded me more of naan that pita and was perfectly cooked. Chewy with little charred places.
The kabob was ground beef with little seasoning outside of garlic and salt. I'm thinking they cooked it while basting it with butter. The rice was perfectly fluffy without being too mushy and it, too, tasted heavily of butter and a tiny bit of salt. Rice, when enjoyed with food, shouldn't be too buttery or else you loose the starchy taste and it messes up the blend of flavors. The star of the plate, oddly, was the salad...or the dressing. Olive oil, lemon, salt, and I think that's it. So delightfully light, not too tangy, and allowed you to actually taste the lettuce. The portions were huge. I'd hate to see a full serving of rice. Yikes.
I give Texas Kabob House a 6 out of ten. Too much butter and tricking me into saying lewd things in Arabic is not nice.
If you go, feel free to leave the Kevlar in the car. I don't think you'll need it.

Kitchen 7 - Frisco, TX

Kitchen 7: a restaurant review. Since grand openings can last several months in this food saturated climate, I’m not exactly sure when Kitchen 7 actually opened but there is still a large inflatable balloon out front. I’ve not heard much about the place but since reviewing restaurants gives me a valid excuse to eat carbs (the only other option would be cardio… no thanks) I decided to give it a go.

The outside windows are festooned with meal deals. $2 tacos. $2 beer. Then random menu items. Kabobs. Drinks. Food. So walking into it, I was pretty sure I wasn’t getting tacos since $2 in this market is pretty steep. Any beer that costs $2 is only one step better than Yak pee and I will not be partaking. The inside is very bright and looks like they are newly opened and still working on décor. Dinner plates are nailed to the wall but that’s the only sort of 3D decoration. The rest of the wall “art” are signs on 8x11 paper taped around telling you that they can refuse you service for any reason if they choose…unless you’re gay then you’re golden. The kitchen is unseen and you order at a counter.
A sign advertising the lunch special caught my eye. “Lunch Special: any platter with soup or soda.”
Soup OR soda?!!! I’m going to have to toss a coin on that one. The menu on the wall is not much more clear. Before I can delve into it, a friendly server greets me at the counter and asks if it’s my first time. I say yes and she says, in broken English, “We have tacos.” I try my best to look pleasantly surprised. “Oh, how unique.” I hope she doesn’t get sarcasm because she will definitely spit in my food. The menu was a conglomeration of different ethnicities and even some things I’d never heard of. Of course, Tacos but they were made with cottage cheese, tofu, chicken, beef, and were named after various yoga positions. Another section read: Rolex. The next section read: Bazooka. Then salads, kabobs, and sides.
I told my very attentive server that I was interested in either a Rolex or a Bazooka and she said Rolex was better. It didn’t come with a side so I chose curly fries to go with my Spicy Rolex with steak. They seemed classier than straight fries and options were limited to those plus onion rings and beans. I paid at one of those iPad stations where it flashes the “tip” amounts at top. The lady kept waving her finger over the tip section. “You may select one.” She informed me. SOAP BOX: I hate the tip. Please just charge extra for food and pay your staff more. Stop nickel and diming me. SOAP BOX DONE.
My curly fries came out first. They were crunchy on the outside, mostly void of potato filling beyond the crunch and the ketchup was in little packets by the drink machine. Now I’m confused. Am I in a fast food place or not? About 5 minutes later, my Rolex came out. It resembled a wrap except that it was in a pita/naan sort of material, with steak, rice, peppers, and an egg. Accompanying it was two different spice levels of a curry dip. The Rolex was very heavy, soggy, and the contents squished out on my hands. The steak was not chopped well and I pulled the entire strand out on the first bit and had to shove the entire thing in my mouth. It was at this moment, the friendly server walked up and asked how I liked my food. With my mouth full of food, I began reciting one of the German arias I learned in college and she shook her head and said, “Thank you.” The rice is mushy and the peppers over cooked. My salt intake for the month has been met and exceeded. I tried both layers of spicy, curry dip. One is a masala and the other is a korma. For those of you not familiar with Indian food, these dips are like spaghetti sauce with curry and the korma has yogurt in it. Not sure where the spice was but I’ve experience more heat making out with a girl who just finished a cinnamon tic-tac. There was a side salad that was not listed on the menu. I hope it was a freeby since I was a first time visitor. Lettuce, a tomato, a cucumber slice, a black olive, feta cheese, I think a carrot slice, and a lemon wedge for dressing. The lemon still had seeds in it. I ate it knowing that I would want as much roughage after this meal as possible. The friendly server walked by again and asked if it was delicious. “I’ve never tasted anything like it” I replied. And I was telling the truth.
I left kitchen 7 feeling bloated and sick. I wasn’t sure if I’d just been to a carnival for fries, a tex mex place for steak tacos, or an Indian place for.. well, I smelled like curry so I must have been to an Indian place. 
I give Kitchen 7 a 4 out of 10. 
The only reason I’m giving them a 4 is because the server was friendly and they had napkin dispensers on the table. I hate walking to get my napkin and hoarding my stack of napkins like a squirrel because I don’t know how many I’ll use. Had it not been for the napkins, I may have ordered the beer and ended it all.

Cedar's Mediterranean - Frisco, TX

Cedars Mediterranean: a restaurant review. 
If it weren't illegal and very socially unacceptable to climb on a food bar and use it as a slip and slide, I'd be covered in baba ganoush right now. 
Cedars is a serve yourself Mediterranean restaurant just south of 121 on Preston. The menu is limited and so far, I approve of everything I've tasted except 2 items. More on that later. 
The ordering is easy and the staff is pleasantly nice. They are mostly Russian so by their standards, they're probably giddy with enthusiasm. By mine, just right. They take your order in an efficient way without being hurried and they never initiate conversation. You have the choice of different kabobs. I chose lamb. 
The food bar is divided into three sections, hot veggies, salads, and dips. All are vegan and gluten free. I will not to count off for this because it's not making a well known dish in a GF way but making a dish that IS GF. 
I sampled the pomegranate eggplant, a tahini cashew sauce with mushrooms and cauliflower, roasted cauliflower, citrus quinoa salad, spring salad with artichokes and hearts of palm, caprese salad, walnut dip, hummus, and baba ganoush. They had names for these dishes and I'd use them if I remembered because there's nothing quite like using a pretentious food term and then acting condescendingly shocked when others ask what it is. I mean, why else would we eat half the food we eat? But I digress. 
I will not describe my entire meal except to say that the roasted cauliflower and walnut dip made me utter in appropriate noises. The salads were extremely fresh, except the caprese- it was like eating white rubber on red styrofoam. The only place in town to get a good tomato is Tru Fire and I'm still trying to bribe them for their contact. 
A server asked in very broken English what I wanted to drink. I asked what they had that was non carbonated and he looked nervously around. I'm guessing he needed a translator or I inadvertently threatened the family goat. I found out on a subsequent trip that you have to pay for the drink with your order and they trust you to be honest. Oops. 
Point off for process. 
I ordered lemon aid and I was not disappointed. Real lemon, loads of mint, and lightly sweetened. I wasn't expecting real lemons so my first drink made me pucker like the old church ladies at handshake time. I will gladly pay the $2.85 for this again. 
Every dish was a lesson in restraint. Lightly seasoned veggies shined above the accompanying sauces or dressings. The dips were creamy and perfectly textured. No lumps in the hummus and only small ones in the ganoush. The lamb kabob showed up and I was blown away. It was actually lamb. Salt and pepper and lamb. You could taste the lamb. Most places mix beef with their lamb and I'm not a fan (gyro excluded) it was juicy, tender, and evenly cooked. 
The two dishes that made me recoil were the roasted zucchini and potato salad. They tasted very strongly of alcohol. Not the fun kind, either. The rubbing kind. I asked my server about it and he said there was no alcohol because it would make the Muslims mad. I believed him. Make me mad and I'll write a scathing review. Make the Muslims mad and the little kid selling candy bars outside your place is likely to blow up. 
Whatever the secret ingredient was, it was about as palatable as vegemite and another reason why America needs to win more wars. 
I give Cedars. 8.5 out of 10. 
Process with drinks, lack of English speaking wait staff, and veggies that tasted like they were sautéed in Bill Clinton's jock strap keep them from a 10. 
Terrific food, clean space, kitchen in the open - I highly recommend you give it a try.

Hugs Cafe - Mckinney Texas

Hugs Cafe. Normally I'd stay away from a place named Hugs. You can almost predict everything about it. Chalk colored paint, farm decor, hearts and cute bugs on the walls, and signs with saccharin statements about love and family. Pretty much everything I despise. But Hugs is a new restaurant and I feel a certain onus to review if for all three of my food review fans.
This is a newly opened place and not a lot on the walls. One booth was closed while the table top was being prepared. The galley shape of the restaurant takes you past the kitchen to the ordering booth. A neat concept. I like open kitchens as they let me keep an eye on the cleanliness of the cooks. The atmosphere is a bit disheveled.
The ordering system is pretty great. You circle what you want on a menu and give it to the cashier. He put my number on a sticky note and I went to the table. My food arrives. Tuna sandwich on toast with potato salad and a chocolate chip cookie.
A tuna sandwich might just be the hardest thing in the world to make. A good one lets the taste of tuna shine through with the accompanying sauce only lending color. Bright veggies should add crunch to make up for the tuna's texture but not over power the fish. An easy thing to do with tuna.
The potato salad was made with mostly mashed potatoes and used a yellow mustard base. This is one dish where the named ingredient should not prevail. Potato salad is all about the sauce. The potatoes should be slightly firm and offer ample opportunity to carry a flavorful mayo and mustard mix. This one did neither. It wasn't bad, by any means, it just didn't pop. The cookie snapped cleanly when I ate it. A sin if ever there was one in cooking. The buttery pastry was overcooked. A good chocolate chip cookie is soft and bendy while still having certain density.
I give Hugs Cafe a 10 out of 10. You should eat there.
Why?
Hugs was started to give special needs adults the opportunity to have a job and gain work experience as well as income. The moment I walked up to the door, the greeter smiled, waved, and said hi. The open kitchen was staffed with SN adults accompanied by a fellow worker carefully showing them how to assemble the sandwiches and put the cookies into the oven.
The cashier told me I didn't have to pay if I didn't want to. He wrote my number down out of sequence but said he hoped I enjoyed my meal. Another worker, for no reason, told me to have a good day and in all my years of eating at restaurants, it was the first time I believed my server. A few other servers ignored me altogether, focused on the task at hand. Neither concerned with pretending to be happy I was there or obsequiously trying to get a tip. The waiter who brought my food said he hoped I enjoyed it. He presented it like an artist unveiling a painting. I think he helped make it.
I was drawn into thought about my own SN niece who has been gone for just over a year. Abigail never pretended about anything. You never had to guess if she wanted you to hold her or if she was happy to see you. She was truly honest.

So there I sat, the single guy in the corner crying over my food. Sure, the bread could have been toasted better but at least the person toasting it truly wanted to do a good job and was proud to serve what he made. Was the potato salad over mixed? Yes but who knows what Herculean effort it took to mix it? It was a crappy cookie but I'll eat 100 of them before I touch the pretentious creme brûlée served up out of necessity rather than love of the art.
I ate and ran, not wanting someone to phone the police about the drunk person in the corner booth crying. The same greeter waved and said, thank you for coming. And I truly believe he meant it.

Primosa Taqueria - Mckinney TX

Primosa Taqueria: a restaurant review. 

If it weren't for the faded, rusty sign out front, you may miss this little hole in the wall. I happen to live within walking distance so tonight, I decided to give the place a go. It advertises traditional Mexican food with a specialty in ricos tripas. 

The restaurant also houses a small convenience store which adds to the quaint, homey feel. The waitress/attendant looked shocked to see me. I told her I spoke Spanish and she smiled and waved me to a seat. (A sign letting me know whether to seat myself or wait to be seated would have been nice.) 

The menu is two pages. Tortas, enchiladas, and platillos. I ordered a chicken Vasques. It came with beans and rice. 

Maria brought me my chips and homemade salsa first. Any Mexican restaurant worth anything will have a homemade salsa. I prefer the chunky variety over the soupy mix more reminiscent of a Bloody Mary than food. The heat should play gently on the sides of the tongue and prep your tastebuds for the more alkaline foods to come. The chips are as equally important. Traditionally made from corn, these little guys should be crunchy, nearly bite size, and balance the thin line between corn and salt. Salsa should never carry the salt flavor. 

These chips were apparently made from the skins of jalapeños. The first bite lit my mouth on fire. Sides, top, back, front...they all sprang to life in the sudden onslaught of heat. I quickly followed that chip with another dipped in salsa, hoping the cilantro would quell the blaze. Big mistake. I'm pretty sure this salsa was forged in the fires of Mt Doom and carried the curse of Sauron with it. Maria waved and asked how I liked her salsa. I nodded and was going to ask where she got her plutonium but the heat had fused my larynx shut momentarily. Plus, I never smim a meal before main course. You never know what a smimmed chef will do to your food. Points off for her asking anyway. 

I took a sip of water. At least I think it was water. It was like liquified ghost peppers. I opened my mouth and let the water pour back into the glass. I took a few more chips in hand and pointed to a sign on the wall, "what is that?" I asked in Spanish. When she turned away, I dropped the chips on the floor under the table. This little game continued until Maria refilled my chip basket and brought me more napkins to mop my forehead with. I wiped my sweaty eyes with my hands and realized that was a mistake. Now I'd have to eat the rest of my meal with one eye swelled shut and oozing. 

Thankfully the meal came out. I needed some pintos and tortillas to calm the searing pain on my tongue. 

Refried beans can be a true work of art or a strong reminder of the craft paste you used in elementary school. The beans have very little flavor on their own and that's why the best beans use copious amounts of lard and onions. They should be fluid but not runny. The accompanying rice should be fluffy with little to no stickiness. Butter and a touch of paprika or cumin is all you need for this side dish. The rice is mainly a filler. An unnecessary starch. I've never had Chicken Vasques so I can't tell you how it should traditionally taste but the accompanying mole sauce should carry a subtle heat and lots of smoky undertones. 

"I made these special today" Maria told me pointing at the beans. "I hope you like." 

"I hope I don't die" was all I thought. 

The beans tasted like crushed brimstone boiled in Beelzebub's piss. Or at least, that's what they felt like. I began to chew faster, my one good eye squinting with pain. I think it burned a hole in my cheek and fell out of my mouth because I don't remember swallowing but a streak of beans and possibly a chunk of my tongue smeared the front of my shirt. 

Maria kept asking if I was ok. I think I called her grandmother a nasty name because she backed away in shock. It's hard to recall details when your ears are ringing and it hurts to breathe. 

I'm pretty sure the rice was seasoned with the soul of a communist dictator and upon swallowing that mouth full I finally screamed out in pain. "Santa Maria! I'm burning!" I dropped my fork and it hit my uneaten chicken Vasques  the mole sauce spattered up and hit my good eye.  I could have sworn Satan spat in my eye. In fact, I was so convinced he did that this is precisely what I screamed as I threw my table back and ran around the eating area clawing at my inflamed pupils. In the haze, I saw Maria cross herself and I heard a child start to cry in the corner. 

A patron yelled something but the only thing I heard over the intense ringing in my ears was "gringo" and "leche." Maria quickly filled a glass with milk and put it on the counter. I drank it greedily and for the first time in what seemed like eternity, the flame subsided from nuclear to volcanic. I tried to thank her but my tongue had stopped working a while back. I think it was flopping back and forth outside my mouth by now. I didn't care because I could no longer feel it. 

I left Primosa Taqueria with a mixture of beans, salsa, mole, and milk staining my shirt. Hoping I could lessen the heat at home, I meandered like a drunken amputee trying to feel the pathway with my hands. About halfway, it hit me.  A monsoon of molten lava desperately trying to escape through an exit no bigger than a slurpee straw. 

I'm lactose intolerant. 

I darted forward towards my house but quickly realized any darting would ultimately harm me, my neighbors, and God's glory. That darting accidentally produced a function that rhymes quite well and while I can't be sure of the cause, a squirrel dropped from the tree and spasmed in the road. 

I yelled in pain at another tidal wave attempted exit and tried to move on my tip toes like the dancers I see at Christmas: legs fully adducted. 

The wave of pain subsided briefly and I made a full on dash for my house. 

I've never run so fast. Thankfully, I nearly made. 

I say nearly 'cause I was in my house when the explosion happened. Don't worry, though, I have hard wood floors and the hair on CK's back should regrow once the burns heal. 

Speaking of burning, I cannot even begin to describe the atrocities that exited my body. I think I melted porcelain and I'm pretty sure a nun somewhere had chest pains after that set of words left my mouth. Satan, who had been indwelling my lower intestines, escaped, leaving behind a burning ring of fire. 

The pain was so bad I contemplated ending it all by jumping in the tub with a hair dryer but God's mercies are new and like a siren song, I heard the playful tune "Hey Diddle Diddle" waft like "Amazing Grace" in my ears. I ran past the splatters in my living room, out my front door, knocked my neighbor's kid out of the way, and pulled the ice cream man close to my blood shot eyes, "Take my money!" I growled. 

I threw my credit card at him, grabbed a bomb pop, and seconds later, exhaled a sigh of relief as the icy red, white and blue-ness cooled the fiery storm. 

My credit card identity was stolen, I am paying for my neighbor's kid's therapy sessions, and I still have to pay for the meal. I would give Primosa Taqueria a 2 out of 10. If you love America and freedom, don't go there.