Mood: Waking
Song: It’s Not Your Fault – New Found Glory
Units of Caffeine: 0
I had a strange feeling yesterday afternoon, during lunch. Yesterday seems like the first Saturday since moving here that we weren’t entertaining anyone. And, whereas it’s great that we have had so many friends and family visit since moving here, it affirms that whole theory of “too much of a good thing.” I was beginning to think that being a weekend tour guide was my weekend job. For the past few weeks, I had been going to the same tourist spots over and over again, and explaining the same things over and over again. Last weekend, the in-laws were in town and, although it was nice to see them again, god, did I spend way too much time with them! It had gotten to a point where I needed to get away and do something sans the in-laws. So, last Saturday night, after having dinner in Alki, we went our separate ways. I looked at my watch and noticed it was only 8:30!! With the entire night left, Monk, K and I decided to finally check out the Irish pub down the street from our apartment. (Why it took so long for us to visit the closest pub to our apartment is beyond me.) It was great. There was a live band, playing a fusion of Irish folk and rock; the pub was warm, rustic-looking, and inviting; and the drinks were great. (We found out later that the food is good, too.) So, we spent the next four or five hours there and got rather toasty. Nay… rather inebriated. So, we all staggered back to the apartment, (which was the most fun walking up the hill to our house that I ever had), and we all collapsed. The next day, I paid for my sins. I woke up with a hangover that made me feel sick; sensitive to sunlight; and my head feel like it was eight sizes too small for my brain. I wanted nothing more than to spend half the day in bead, with the covers over my head. Instead, I had to wake up early, to a VERY sunny day in Seattle, to spend the day with my in-laws. Saturday night was fun, but admittedly, that was some really poor planning on my part.
So, this weekend is much better. No in-laws. No hangovers. Just a few lazy days in which we don’t have to do anything. I spent the morning with my brother and his partner, as seems to be the norm for our Saturday morning, and got together with K a little later to spend the rest of the day with her. It was another nice day, so we decided to go to Alki again to enjoy the water and the view, and check out one of the many beachside restaurants there. We ended up going to a Mexican place. This had been the first Mexican restaurant we went to since leaving Texas. It was just so hard for me to go to a Mexican place. For one, I wanted to enjoy all of the things the northwest had to offer, which was mostly seafood, seafood, and more seafood. But there were other things that Seattle has that we had a hard time finding whilst living in Texas. We’ve found some fantastic Italian delis; there are a few Indian places that we love here; and Chinatown, located on the south side of downtown Seattle, has some of the best Asian food and ingredients that I have seen…. ever. In addition to this, having spent the past six and a half years in Texas, I just couldn’t get over the mental leap that there could possible be any good Mexican places anywhere other than Texas. I recently watched an episode of No Reservations in which its host, celebrity chef, Anthony Bourdain toured Mexico for a sample of Mexican cuisine and culture. What I found most interesting about the program was that Tony didn’t film the entire show in Mexico. Instead, he bounced back and forth over the border between Mexico and Texas. Why? Because there is so much Mexican culture that can be found in Texas. Texas embraces it. One of my favorite weekend getaway spots in Texas was San Antonio. Even though it’s still quite a bit inland from the border, it’s difficult to think of the term “border” as a black-and-white issue. Borders are lines, developed by mapmakers, politicians, and governments. But, had one visited San Antonio without any concept of borders or geography, it would be difficult to see where Mexico ends and Texas begins. And, from what I saw on Tony’s show, that seems to be true of many of the towns and villages in south Texas. So, for six and a half years, I had been experiencing some of the best in Tex-Mex cuisine that I will ever experience in my life, my thought was that nothing, anywhere else on earth, could possibly compare. This state of mind was further solidified by my time living in the northeast. There were very few Tex-Mex places in upstate New York, and, truth be told, I was never fond of the Tex-Mex places I want to, while living in New York. The food ranged from mediocre, (at best), to downright terrible. I remember spitting out this horrible, lime-green, salt-rimmed, sweet-and-sour slurry of shit called a margarita and thinking that the equation Spicy + Mexican = Aweful! All of this changed when I moved to Texas. I had a new look at Mexican; into a world of chorizo, jalapenos, carnitas, chipotle, and guacamole, and had an ethereal experience with a lady made up of the right blend of distilled, fermented agave, smooth orange liqueur, and tangy lime – Margarita! Of course, once one has gone through the path of enlightenment – prayed to the porcelain gods from having too much tequila, and cried the thousand tears of the Jalapeno, Serrano, and Habanero – it’s hard to go back to mediocrity. I was happy to gain the knowledge of what Tex-Mex is supposed to taste like, so that I can have that religious experience in my own home, but what of the Mexican restaurant? Could there possible be another place on earth (other than Texas and Mexico) where I could have this same culinary experience, especially in the Pacific Northwest? After almost two months of living in Seattle, K and I decided to give it a whirl. We went to the Cactus restaurant in Alki. The décor looked interesting enough with its nouveau Southwestern feel and the piped music got me in the mood for some hot salsa and a cold margarita. I started to feel like I was in a different world when we had to pay for our chips and salsa. Again, coming from a world where chips and salsa are as complimentary at a Mexican restaurant as bibs are at Red Lobster, I couldn’t help but cringe a little. The menu was just a little different than what I was used to in North Texas. Nothing odd, but just a little different. With little differences such as Navajo fry bread and blue corn tortillas, there was some Native American infusion that added a new wrinkle to what I had already been familiar with. But, I’m open to new things and ideas – So, bring it on! I was happy that I had finally been able to get over the mental leap, because it was wonderful, and K mentioned a certain comforting feeling about it all – It reminded her of home. I didn’t respond. I sat in silence, thinking about what K had just said. K had earlier, more positive experiences with Mexican cuisine in her life, and was referring to most of her life; but I was thinking of the past six and a half years. I thought of my first time at a Mexican restaurant in Texas, with a group of friends; I remembered going to the local cantina several times with friends for margaritas, sangrias, and chips and queso, before a night of bowling; and I remembered a wonderful Mexican dinner on July 4th, 2004 with our friends and seeing the restaurant packed with other families, choosing to have their Independence Day dinner at a Mexcian restaurant – and I remember having that same thought of “borders” that night. And I agreed with K. The Mexican cuisine was comforting and brought back memories of home. My Texas home.
And that’s how K and I found ourselves, sitting in a semi open-air restaurant, eating some great Native American infused Mexican while looking out onto the Puget Sound on a warm, sunny day. The combination of this was just…. weird. Sunny. Warm. Great Mexican food. These are words that a lot of people wouldn’t normally associate with Seattle, but it’s here and it’s wonderful!
