Viva La Mexico

If you have ever seen a Lorikeet nectar feeding station, with it's cornucopia of sounds, and dozens and dozens of individuals pushing, shoving, walking on each other, you have a pretty good idea of what a Mexico taco joint is like on Sunday morning. I have been complimented on always managing to find the best one in the area. When asked how I managed it, I explain the "dog grading system" I have devised. It is similar to a "star grading system" for hotels and restaurants using dogs(I think only Generals should have stars.) The more dog's hanging around in front, the better the taco's, ie a 2 dog joint is pretty bad, while a 4 or 5 dog joint is guaranteed great eating. The wonderful thing about Mexico, and what makes it so enjoyable, is that political correctness is still about 25 years away. It hasn't gotten shitted up yet with a few insecure nitwits attempting to create a Private Idaho that makes them comfortable. Only one complaint, and that is Mexico's steaks. Nothing more then a tough, uncured, not put in the smoke house yet, 1/8 inch strip of beef jerky, before it has been jerked. I have started to miss terribly a nice marbled, 3 inch New York Strip and an equally fine two inch ribeye. In a few short months, I have become a strong advocate for steroids and biological feeds. Mad Cow disease be damned, that fork full of heaven is well worth the risk.