Tin Fork
Hmm. Chilaquiles. Coffee. Beer. Beer. My Sunday brunch. Not just me. Guy on my right is downing a pint of “Dank & Sticky IPA,” think he says. Couple on my left is full-chomp into steaks, …
Huh. A smoker. And smoking away right now. Not some guy — a wood-burning meat smoker. I’m loping up Indiana Street. Where it forks into Park and Robinson, and right beside a li’l ol’ bungalow, …
"Whooo! Whooo!” This is Mary Beth and her friend Jef. Waving their arms, pointing their fingers, whooping like werewolves, doing a dance in place here in row 32 at SDSU’s Viejas Arena. Confession: This is …
Lord. Trying to concentrate. Ten percent, double it, aargh! Sixteen bucks. And that’s just the tip. Total for this lunch, $105.97. I try not to let it show as I usher the two ladies out. …
I look at my chunk of bread. Just think, Napoleon ate this. Could have. Really. This bread. That’s how long it’s been going. Back in 1815, Battle of Waterloo and all that, this exact same …
"Hi! Welcome! Yókoso!” It’s this lady at the cashier desk. Love that about Japanese eateries. I know it’s just business, but welcomes like this kinda make you feel good. I had just hopped off the …
"Soju!” says my buddy Ernesto. “Au jus?” “No, soju. What’ve you been talking about, on and on? Soju? Korean sake? Then it clicks. ’Cause I have been going on about soju and how it’s gonna …
Water. Adam’s Ale. Hobo cocktail. Sky juice. Call it whatever, it’s one of the few things around that’s still actually free. And — hey hey! — today, water made it possible for me to finagle …
New year resolution time: gonna eat healthy. Gonna eat less. Gonna live on nuts and twigs. Or...eat Thai? ’Cause I keep seeing Thai cuisine on lists of the world’s healthiest diets. And especially my all-time …
Oh, boy. Fish looks up at me from the plate. His open mouth seems to be saying something. “Help!” “See that?” I ask Mary Beth. “Your imagination,” she says, “is running rampant. It’s a tilapia. …
"I need a novio!” This is Leona. She’s standing by as I chow into her lush carnitas, basically slow-cooked pork on a plate loaded with frijoles, grated cotija cheese, avocado slices, pico de gallo, and …
"Se habla English!!” That’s what it says on the menu I’m checking out, here in National City. It also says “Birrio de Chivo, Guadalajara-style, perfected in Tijuana and imported into the USA.” Perfect. Because tonight, …
"Sorry about your leader.” “Thank you. But it’s been a long time. Thirty years since I left.” Raul’s from Cuba. I want to ask what he feels about Fidel. But conversation drifts. We happen to …
They’re lining up to get in. The wedding party. Actually, not the wedding party. These are the aunts and uncles and parents who’ve come to sample dishes for their daughter’s wedding breakfast they’ve booked here …
We’re walking, walking — hold it! Swear this used to be a hair salon. But now we’re looking at a kind of Italian bar that spills out onto the sidewalk. I try to figure out …
"Midnight, dude.” This guy and I just happen to fall in step walking away from Father Joe’s, into the dusk of Imperial Avenue. “Midnight?” “Everybody’s waiting for midnight. Look around you,” he says. “There’s a …