Mess With This Tex-Mex

Mess With This Tex-Mex

Tex-Mex and I go way back.

For my first college gig, I hostessed at a rowdy, Tex-Mex restaurant: Caliente Cab Company. Famous for their frozen margaritas--evidenced by the monster cocktail beckoning from the facade--this was where locals went to get their tequila on, downing syrupy sweet margaritas or slamming shots wielded by bandolier-strapped waitresses. The edible offerings were cheesy, cheap, and filling--food was merely fuel for more boozing.

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My Zone Diet

My Zone Diet

In my suburban CT childhood, there were two types of tacos.  1. Salty, spice-packet-seasoned beef in a hard shell from Old El Paso. 2. Gringo-style, cheesy bombs from Tacos Or What, a local joint frequented by  high-schoolers and hungry stoners.  Neither were remotely authentic, but they were good, cheap fuel for my enormous, adolescent appetite.  When I moved to Los Angeles -- aka Little Mexico -- I finally tasted tacos in their natural habitat.  

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