Well, we have several. But we have one in particular. We call it "the bus". We've gone past this bus many times on our way to the Chinese place for lunch. And we've talked about trying it out. It started out as a joke because if you take one look at this thing and the area they park it you check the car door locks pretty quickly. The area is somewhat less than hospitable. There is a hootchie cootchie club just down the road and driving in this area after dark is not for the faint of heart. I've heard horror stories about the activities across the street and in the housing projects too. By the way, the bus serves Mexican food. We do like Mexican every now and then. Rumor mill said they had the best in the State. Really? We started having serious thoughts.
So a good bit of research was done. Try as we might, we couldn't find one single dissenting word about "the bus". There hadn't been any homicides in the 'hood that week so the next day off we went. Most of the usual lunch crew (from work) bailed on us so we did some outside recruiting. Armed with an unsuspecting Husband and a couple of cute little kids we slid right in there. Who's gonna bother you if you have little kids? The ordering and eating procedure at this place is a little unconventional and if you hadn't already guessed, you better know just a little bit of Mexican. You have to walk inside to place your order and there is not much room. There are only about 8 chairs lined up along the walls with a skinny counter and the kitchen takes up nearly half of the space. Thankfully, the food choices had pictures and numbers, so you just pick out a number from 1 to 30 and let 'er rip. This place is known for super authentic Mexican dishes, and that generally translates the same way in any language: a little weird. Authentic in Mexican is beef cheek (I didn't know you could even eat that part), tripe (guts), and tongue. Being the adventurous type, I went with chicken, got a "chata" to drink (yes the drinks are authentic too) and smiled to myself that I had actually pulled this off and was about to enjoy a fine meal. Then things got just slightly worriesome when the guy in the kitchen started calling out who's order was ready. I couldn't understand a thing. I concentrated and realized he was calling out the orders in Mexican by the ticket number they give you. A quick rattle of my brains back to High School Spanish class got me where I thought I needed to be to get my order. Lucky for me, they were beyond the teens because I never could remember them, even back in school. Well, when my order came up he called it out in English; I guess Gringos get special consideration. There was another guy there who was a cherry just like us and he was asking someone what/how to do. This is one of those places where you need to step back and watch what goes on in order to get the full good out of it. There is one long picnic table outside to sit at so we all plopped down there after trucking everything off the bus only to find out that the kitchen guy will hand it outside to you through the window. He's about 10' off the ground so you have to reach up over your head to get it and pray it doesn't fall on your head. I never did understand one thing he said to the other customers either. In High School they teach Spanish, at the bus you have to speak Mexican.
So how was it? I thought it was great. I got a plate of enchilladas with beans and rice. There were some pickled carrots on my plate and some sort of wierd long pepper thing. Not like anything else I've ever had in the usual Mexican places. The "chata" was good too. I think it was made with rice milk and cinnamon. After 20 minutes or so that place was filling up fast. A bunch of geeky Engineers (you have to be one to be able to spot them) arrived and looked sort of worried/annoyed about how and where they were going to sit. Engineers are not known for their social skills and I chuckled to myself knowing that they were facing quite a dilemma at the thought of sitting at the same picnic table with a bunch of strangers. A few of them at the other end were even (gasp) Mexican. We overheard some of the conversation suggesting they drop the tailgate of somebody's truck. The picnic table would have easily accomodated another dozen people. I figure they took our spot the second we got up. I snapped a picture of the bus on the way home and a few guys inside waved at us while I took it.
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