One thing that Mia learned real quick as a food aficionado was that it didn’t matter how much money you have or what kind of chefs you could afford to hire, if the food didn’t have soul and heart, it was trash. Another thing she learned? Some of the best food found anywhere tend to be foods made by the locals, the ones who learned to cook from their mothers and grandmothers and often times didn’t have to go to culinary school to appreciate the art of food and the power of bringing people together. It was for this very reason, that Mia never turned her nose up to hole in the wall eateries and undiscovered gems in the city. It was the truth in Mexico City, she didn’t see why it would be any different in New York City. Born into wealth and privilege, she has seen her peers refuse to eat at locations that didn’t have at least one Michelin star. Mia rolled her eyes even thinking about the foolishness, she was lucky, yes she had all the money she could ever dream of, but her “tias y tios”, the guards at her home, the workers around the home, among others… all of them were narcos. Narcos who were born of humble beginnings and grew into their wealth, and because of that, they had exposed Mia to their way of thinking, their cultures and the biggest gift of all, their love of food. Street Food.
So here she was, walking into her favorite Mexican restaurant: Mariscos Del Sur. It was a restaurant set up near the coast, with perfect views of the water. Specializing in all sorts of seafood but also welcoming of the traditional Mexican dishes including the ever iconic tacos, the enchiladas and sopes and carnitas. It was a place that was gaining notice and hype by word of mouth, and while she was always the most critical when it came to eating food from her homeland, it’s also the one she seeked out the most because she missed it. That’s why when she found this place, it was her own personal slice of heaven. She’s taken to a small table for two after explaining to the host that it would just be herself in attendance today, and she smiled when her drink was placed on her table not that long after. She was such a frequent guest they already knew her preferred drink, a paloma. She was looking at her menu trying to decide between the ceviche de camaron or the empanadas de camaron, when she heard the grating voice of one of her least favorite servers in the place. The girl’s voice was like the sound of nails on a blackboard and Mia immediately felt her mood sour. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw a beautiful guerito looking over the menu and asking for a recommendation. She perks up a little, trying to hear what the dumb gringa has to say, rolling her eyes when the girl offers up fajitas or the taco salad. The two most americanized recipes on the menu that were truly there to placate those with bland palates and weak stomachs. Mia waits for the gringa to walk away before leaning over towards the handsome gentleman and offering her unsolicited but very necessary advice.
“If you value true Mexican cuisine, you will absolutely ignore that girl’s suggestion because she is setting you and your stomach up for major disappointment.” Mia leaned back, shrugging. “I’m just saying, sure she works here but her taste is wretched.”
There was a slight frown on his face as the waitress had suggested probably the two least exciting things on the menu. But he still kept a smile, thanking her for the recommendation and requested a few additional minutes to figure out what he had really wanted. It didn’t help that the poor girl hadn’t helped his efforts in narrowing down the menu at all. He just hoped that by the time his agua de jamaica came to the table that he would be ready. Tommy was slightly caught off guard when he heard a voice chime in from beside him. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s advice, eyeing her as she spoke. “Oh believe me, if I wanted a taco salad, I would have gone to Chipotle. The only thing she told me was what not to order,” he joked for a moment before making eye contact with the girl. He extended his hand for her to shake, “Tommy. Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for proving that I wasn’t being crazy thinking she steered me in the totally wrong direction.”
Normally, he wouldn’t have done what he was about to do at all. Not with a person he had just met from receiving unsolicited from her, but he would be dammed if he was stuck with something he could have gotten down the street from his apartment. “Do you mind if I,” he motioned toward the seat opposite of her wasting no time to get himself situated in it. “Believe me, I don’t think I’ve ever done this before, but I need a real recommendation and you seem like you would know exactly what’s good here,” he commented before taking in her demeanor and body language. “I’m afraid if I sit at that table any longer she’ll come back and I’ll panic order the taco salad,” he admitted to her with a soft chuckle. “So tell me, what would you recommend. And don’t hold back, I may be a whitey, but I’m here for great food experience and you seem like someone who has a very valuable opinion about everything.”
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