On Rice and Beans

I spent a good chunk of my day at work, which means starring at a computer screen. This is not a good thing. At some point in the day I decided that I was craving Mexican food, and so resolved myself to go on a Mexican adventure. The motivation for such a quest may come from the knowledge that in a week I will be in a part of the country where Mexican food is almost entirely non-existent.

More than anything though, I wanted something authentic. Or so I thought. It turns out that I only know where the fake Mexican-chain retail-type places are in Provo--places that either have the word "Cafe" in their name or the word "Fresh" somewhere in the title. No. I wanted the opposite of fresh. I wanted meat on a tortilla and beans on the side.

And yet, I am not ready for this. I found a groceria just south of my house that seemed promising. I was only one of two white people in the store, which was surprisingly busy. They had a lunch counter with a menu board tacked to the back wall. It was just right, except there were only two ladies working and neither of them seemed to be working very quickly. I pollo-ed out. I couldn't bring myself to go through the embarrassment of ordering in English in a completely Spanish-oriented store.

Maybe I'm not ready to pay the price necessary for real Mexican food.