Tamales Something Something was one of those places where everything is in Spanish--the wall menu, the conversations, the orange awning with all those words...And other than "Tengo partes privadas verdes" (which is too dirty to translate here) and telling dogs and cats they are pretty, my Spanish is limited to dysfunctional guerrilla warfare words. Should you ever be caught in a Latin American revolution, feel free to bust out with "bombadier intessemente," which means "to strafe." Just don't tell the locals you learned it from me.
So, back to Tamales Something Something. Tamales only sells tamales, five or six different kinds I think. And no Coke or Pepsi for the kiddos. (Mary's orchada (if that is in fact how you spell it) was delicious.) This is like the stationary version of the Tamale Guy, should you want a tamale you don't have to spend two days making yourself.
The cheese and jalapeno tamales were pretty good. Not great, but totally acceptable. My only complaint was that they were a little on the dry side. I would have loved more goo.
The lady who rang us up and brought our food was so nice, I suspected she might have known we were going to review the place. Do restaurant proprietors read this? Does anyone? Anyway, she brought us two free pineapple tamales to try, and they were full of sweet raisin pineapple goodness and had a lovely cornbread texture. We tried eating those first, but liked them so much we saved them for dessert. She asked us about twelve times if we liked our tamales...Which made us like them more, I suspect.
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3 comments:
dear mary and cortney, i'm sorry. pick one. eat burritos on clark or be a vegetarian. the reason my darling girls is you are not eating the same burritos."i am broke" a simple phrase that might bring you a tortilla filled with hope will always be vegetarian.
This makes no sense. Vegetarianism and burritos on Clark have almost nothing to do with each other, ostensibly.
This is what I'm talking about when I talk about translation being an active process even within a shared language.
It's a good thing we haven't morphed into one person...yet. I hate it when my inner veggie fights my inner burrito on Clark. That makes for some smelly gas.
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