Dining with D.A.D.

Abuelo’s [website] | the “Juarez” combo

“Hola” to my Mexicano peeps out there. What’s up, essays?

Close your gaping yappers. Before the intolerance police send me off to sensitivity camp, I should explain that I’m no “racialist.” I’m half Mexican. (The left half.) I can say these things and get away with it. Being half Mexican and half plain white has other advantages, too. I can enjoy a lot of spicy, traditional Mexican foods AND I can stomach frog legs. My body can’t resist moving to a good latin beat AND I’m a badminton pro. I’m kick-ass at mowing lawns (seriously) AND I don’t get the appeal of Carlos Mencia.

So, we cool now, gringos? Bueno! On to the review…

First off, as a friend pointed out, Abuelo’s is no regular Mexican restaurant. It is a Mexican food embassy. And I felt like an ambassador from the moment I walked in–ridiculously tall ceilings, towering pillars, and artificial sunlight all made me feel like I had (legally) crossed the border. Oh, yeah. Mooey bueno! I’m seeking food asylum, expatriating from Blandsillvania, and immigrating (legally) to the People’s Republic of Mexican Food-topia. Bring this refugee some queso, señor. On da lay! Bueno!

Messy, runny, cheesy, artsy goodness.

Since it was my first time in this country, I had to get a sampler, the “Juarez,” which featured a crispy beef taco, tamale, chicken enchilada, cheese enchilada, beans, and cheesy potatoes.

Being half Mexican, I can half tell you how to gauge how awesome your mexican food really is. Foremost let’s clear up one myth about “my people” and “our food.” Misconceptions are not bueno.

Most folks think that you can judge good Mexican based on the rice and beans. This is outrageous, slanderous, and about only half true. Certainly, if the rice and beans are an atrocity to your taste buds, then the place obviously doesn’t know what it’s doing. The problem with this measurement is that any Mexican restaurant with the foresight to hire at least one Mexican grandma can produce quality rice and beans, but that doesn’t mean the rest of their food is “bueno.” Capiche? If you really want to know if you’re eating great Mexican food, try these three tactics:

1. How artsy-looking is your food?
Truly great Mexican food looks like some great modern artist or invalid child threw some paint on a canvas and called it art. The food should all run together, each item barely distinguishable from next except, perhaps, from afar or by squinting really hard. The best Mexican food will look like like a bad Monet or a good Jackson Pollok–as good as a Jackson Pollok can be, at least. (“Pollock” is not a racial slang.) If your food actually looks like food–we’re talking anything more realistic than Picasso here–then you should send it back immediately, demand a refund, and spit at the hostess on your way out.

2. Does the tamale suggest that there is a God?
The absolute best barometer of a Mexican restaurant is its tamale. Slightly firm steamed masa with succulent shredded pork in mole sauce–there is nothing better in Heaven, Hell, or New Jersey. (Point of Interest: It is a common misconception that Eve was tempted to eat an apple from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. In fact, Eve was tempted to eat a tamale from the Mesa of the Knowledge of … HOLY CRAP TAMALES ARE BUENO!) The best tamales will be slightly firm, not mushy or runny or wet in any way, but will still crumble beneath your fork. They will melt in your mouth–and in your hand, too, actually–and make you think twice about your atheistic doubts, heathen.

3. Are you enjoying your food?
Silliness aside, the best  judge of any restaurant, Mexican or Canadian or Pacific Islander, is if you’re enjoying the food. Don’t let any critic or food blog–even this one–convince you that something sucks if you like it. What do we know? Food critics are glorified rhetoricians. In the food chain of importance, that’s one step above professional clairvoyant and one step below hall monitor. We eat food because we enjoy it. You should do the same.

We happen to write about it because we enjoy telling people what we think. And there are no openings for town crier.

Anyway, enough of that semi-emotional drivel. What were we talking about, uh, fashion show? (Thank you Family Guy.)

If you happen to find yourself at an Abuelo’s embassy, it’s well worth your time to stop in and stamp your food passport, amigo. It’s like having a real Mexican experience, except that you can drink the water.

Bueno!

DTR