It has been quite the year, meine kleine tyrannjugend, hasn't it? I can hardly keep track of all the bullshit that made this the year that my fingernails tore at the armrests like Posh Kenneth did in Get Out. But rather than relive a second year in a row where favorite lunch spots either closed down or scaled down, let's just take a quick look back at the last month or so before we call it quits for our usual winter break.
In fact, let's get weird with it.
Let's start with a ghost kitchen.
On Halloween.
Because it's spooky.
Meltdown, 31 October 2021
You know you're on that official couple status when you get invited to your partner's friend's Halloween get toge- What's that? I was invited to Halloween '20 also? And I went? And we ate Pizza Lucé and watched the Jordan Peele Twilight Zone?
Oh.
Well, we did it again this year, except this time, we watched A Bucket of Blood and ordered from this ghost kitchen called The Meltdown. I don't know if this actually counts as a Maplewood entry but I had a turkey melt. It wasn't bad. I'd get it again if that's what everybody in the room was into ordering. Honestly, though, it wouldn't be my go-to.
Anyway, I didn't get a picture of it, so enjoy my jack-o-lantern from that night.
The Original Malt Shop Express, 4 November 2021
A bigger question would be why were they playing Hendrix's "All Along the Watchtower" when we got in there? Isn't that an odd choice for your, uh, malt... shop? Like this fifties place where dudes wear paper hats? I mean... OK. I love Hendrix so I'm not complaining. It's just a little weird. Like the time Kath and I were in the Maple Grove Lund's & Byerly's and they were playing "Land of Confusion". Is that really appropriate grocery shopping muzak? I mean I'll take it over what passes for whatever the hell that bullshit is that the Cub plays that sounds like... I don't know what that sounds like. It's awful.
So the Hendrix wraps up and we grab a booth and... Wait a minute. Didn't they just... play... OK, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe that wasn't "All Along the Watchtower" because this is "All Along the Watchtower"; maybe I was... OK, well, somebody in back has a Hendrix mixtape. Cool.
"All Along the Watchtower" ends and Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" starts up and, hey, Johnny and I have a spotty history with each other but I'm not bothered by this. It's fine. You know? Consider all the bullshit that could come over the muzak. Sure, chasing a Hendrix double header with some Johnny Cash isn't the most inspired move but this is a Thursday night in a strip mall. Some seventeen year old grill jockey who'd rather be getting his dick sucked until it snapped clean off his body was finally handed the keys to the soundsystem after promising his manager he wouldn't play Cannibal Corpse - primarily because he doesn't know who Cannibal Corpse is but his forty five year old manager who, goddamnit, had a life, a real life, before she had to jump from one dead end middle managerial position to the next thinks he knows who Cannibal Corpse is. (And I got to tell you, I'm a little bit on the manager's side here because I was trying to think of "What do the kids listen to these days?" and I don't know. I don't. I just don't.)
So "Ring of Fire", a short song, a song that doesn't end on a solo, a song with a simple structure that stays in my memory fairly well ends and...
Huh???
OK. This is... OK. I... guess... I mean...
It's not the biggest deal but -
Hm? What? Oh, I had a cheesesteak. It's... yeah...
No, I was just saying, like, you - y-you get it, right? The same song twice in a row isn't that big a deal but I' ppprrreeettttttyyy sure they just did that with Hendrix so... Is this a theme night or something? Because I'm not trying to harsh anybody's mellow, just. OK. Cool. Let it rip, lil duder. I remember all the nights I spent working at Burger King in high school wishing I could at least curate the muzak playlist if I wasn't going to be at my friends' houses getting high. Like "For god's sake, Rich, you like AC/DC, can we at least put AC/DC on the muzak? This Lou Bega shit is lame."
Actually, I don't think Lou Bega was out at the time. He might have been on only his third or fourth mambo, then.
Actually, I don't think Lou Bega was out at the time. He might have been on only his third or fourth mambo, then.
Whatever. "Ring of Fire" comes to an end and Kath and I remark that it's a bit of an odd choice to play once but twice? OK. Then this happens:
That's when I put it to Kath: "Did we die? Is this the afterlife? Are we going to open the doors of the Original Malt Shop Express and find ourselves in some Beetlejuice-assed desert with the sandworm? What the fuck is going on?" Because right about now, I'm steadying myself for the conclusion that my atheism is dead wrong and this is the afterlife I'm stuck in: A Fridley strip mall eatery for eternity. It's just weird.
"Ring of Fire" concludes and we're bracing ourselves for the fourth play, we're preparing to see the meatwagon zoom by out front to haul our bodies out of the burning wreckage of Kath's car or something. But then there's no music.
"Ring of Fire" concludes and we're bracing ourselves for the fourth play, we're preparing to see the meatwagon zoom by out front to haul our bodies out of the burning wreckage of Kath's car or something. But then there's no music.
Except something very faintly is playing. I can't make out the bass or drums at this low volume but I can hear the twang of a clean electric guitar. The song is growing steadily louder and then I know what I'm hearing:
Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit".
I wonder out loud if they'll play this three times.
We come to the crescendo, the one made famous by Raoul Duke in his question to Dr. Gonzo, and then bah! The end.
I hold up my finger. Wait for it.
There it is.
That opening guitar noodle. Great. They're doing it. They're goddamned doing it.
So, hey, as long as we're dead, I do a little dance for Kath, full of old school Madonna vogue moves as I lip sync to Grace Slick. Man, I've got my leg on the table, I'm shimmying, I don't care who sees me, they're as dead as we are. Fuck 'em. Get used to an afterlife with me, assholes.
Meanwhile, Kath is not amused.
We finish eating somewhere in the middle of the third spin of "White Rabbit" and bus our table and make our way out, sure to embrace life like a lover we have callously neglected and need to make things right with.
My sandwich was OK.
El Taco Loco, 5 November 2021
Look, there are probably, undoubtedly, a bajillion places called El Taco Loco. It's not an inspired name. But their photo gallery is as vibrant as the cover of Excellent Italian Greyhound.
How could I not want to eat here?
We pack up and head to Columbia Heights and, no, I did not get a picture of the chicken burrito I had because we all know what a burrito looks like.
But it was fucking life-changing.
Kath was enamored with her chicken quesadilla.
I swear to god, fucking life changing. I asked Kath three times how come by our apartment, located a scant four blocks off the main drag where all the restaurants are (including three taquerias and one, uh, place I guess you would call it), we can't get Mexican food this good? Why?
And let me tell you: No, the chicken wasn't tinga. Didn't matter. It was awesome. There were whole-damned-ass slices of tomato in my burrito and that's before we even talk about the cilantro-rich pico de gallo that had me screaming inside. The goddamned pinto beans were orange, Jesus wept! This burrito fell into that rarely-filled category of Things Where I Can Taste the Individual Components. Off the top of my head, I remember only the Rachael from 333 falling into that category and while I'm sure there are things that have fallen in since then, I'm still too bezoggled by this fucking burrito. Do you want a burrito that tastes as good as the picture looks?
They didn't cut mine in half, though.
Look at that! I can tell you with all honesty that that is how the inside of my burrito looked. Just not in a straight cut. I mean I saw that was what it looked like when I bit into it.
The chicken was tender, the pico had a sweetness mixed in with a tamed allium bite from the onion, somewhere in there was the amount of cumin that occurs just before front-and-center, the tomatillo hot sauce on the side was downright drinkable, and, yeah, the rice was just kind of a mass but who gives a shit about rice coming in separate grains?
I was excited about this burrito. I was excited to tell you about it. Have you read this fucking thing lately? I haven't been excited about something in a minute. I almost forgot how to be excited. What's this key? ! What the fuck is that? A vertical line over a dot? Let me see that ag- ! What is that? How do I use that? Do I - Is there an application for that? Because it seems like I don't use it at all.
If you are in Columbia Heights and you haven't been to El Taco Loco yet, if you are in Minneapolis and you haven't been to El Taco Loco yet, if you have never been to the Twin Cities and you just want to know where to get not just good Mexican food, but the best Mexican food around here, then I beg and implore you to go to El Taco Loco and give them all of your money. Even if you weren't coming here in the first place, come here and go there. You will thank me, you will thank them, you are welcome.
Comments
Post a Comment