The peanut vendor
The closest I’ve been to Tijuana is my possibly over enthusiastic collection of Herb Alpert and his brass band’s albums. But I’ve always fancied sitting in a dusty tavern, gently weeping, with a group of mariachi musicians slowly singing love songs in the corner. We have tacos quite often in our house, mainly chicken, occasionally shredded beef or pork and sometimes fish or prawn. And there are…
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