Today's lunch was tacos de lengua with pico de gallo, rice, and refritos. I failed to make a lunch to take to the office, so I decided to go out instead. Cuquita's is a good little family-owned Mexican place near the office and I enjoy going there, where I'm almost always one of the very few gringos.
Their lengua is fantasticly good, though every time I order it (most of the times I go there, but I don't visit often) the Mexican waitstaff are pleasantly surprised that a gringo would actually order it and like it. Apparently anglos are not deeply into cooked cow tongue, as a rule. But I do love it. Today, one of the owners asked how the meal was and what I had eaten. When I told her it was wonderful, as usual and that I had eaten the lengua, she exclaimed, "Good for you! You like tongue?! It's one of our favorites. At home, we don't dice it like here, we shred it." I asked when I could plan on having dinner with her at home and she laughed. I was serious, but apparently that didn't come through.
I will admit that, conceptually, the idea of eating tongue is not terrifically appetizing. But the proof is in the eating.
If it hadn't been lunch (and I hadn't been obliged to go back to work), I would have had a margarita or six to accompany my wonder-meal. But I didn't. I've actually never had a margarita at the same time I've eaten lengua. I'll have to try that.
No comments:
Post a Comment