We were going to celebrate Cinco de Mayo the way the Mexicans do, which is not at all. Cinco de Mayo may be a day of sombreros and fiestas in the Estados Unidos, but not in Mexico. My real live Mexican amigo, Hilario, informs me it is a non-holiday in his homeland. Hilario went to grad school in DC and is now back in Quintana Roo. He said he really misses living in America whenever Cinco de Mayo rolls around.
It was my intention to have a productive night at home (you can see how productive I am being, what with this blog entry). But things did not go as planned from the get-go. My attempt to bike home from work failed when I discovered my bike was kaput. It seems a car hit my bike (*not* while I was on it) and broke the derailer, and I had to call husband and baby to come rescue me. Once the whole family was loaded in the car, bikes on top, it seemed like a really great idea to go to our local taqueria for dinner… especially because a certain someone was looking very handsome in his guayabera.
The taqueria is an amazing little almost-hole-in-the-wall in our neighborhood. They have wonderful tacos autentico, delicious horchata and salsa verde that I literally eat with a spoon. But I foolishly thought it would not be a Cinco de Mayo destination — it’s so small and they don’t even serve alcohol. But was I ever wrong. It was totally packed. Every seat was taken. People were crowded around the counter to order take-out, and the phone was constantly ringing. Folks seated on the patio brought their own Coronas, six-packs tucked under their chairs.
The Taqueria management seemed to have anticipated this about as much as I did. They were really under-staffed. There was one waitress in the restaurant and just two women behind the counter, taking all the orders and making all the food. So our quick taco expedition turned into a rather long taco wait. It was rather like going to an Irish bar on St. Patrick’s Day — which is something I never do.
By the time our food came, Ezra was d-o-n-e. He was fussy and ready for bed. Preston and I took turns eating. One would stand and bounce him while the other sat and ate tacos. And let me say, the tacos were delicioso.
But since Ezra does not eat tacos, he had no patience for this endeavor. Until behold, the man who started the taqueria, Luis, aka Mr. Taco Man, came over to greet us. (We’ve been long-time customers at the taqueria, so he knows us … we were there pretty much all the time during our engagement.) And suddenly Mr. Fussy Baby was all smiles, hanging on his every word.
I think we have another Tacqueria fan in the family. Happy Cinco de Mayo!