| rev:text
| - Look, I'm not saying Mi Comida created a wormhole in the space-time continuum, but I am also not saying otherwise.
Step inside... climate and humidity levels immediately shift to match that of a few thousand miles south of here.
Take a seat and make yourself at home, which should be easy - a warm, smiley, Spanish-speaking only couple is running the show. Don't be intimidated, they work around helplessly bad accents and treat everyone like they belong. There's no exclusivity, just love, tradition, and things getting lost in translation. Check your watch a moment later, only to realize it's been two-and-a-half hours.
Don't worry, your massive chalice of fresh, spicy ceviche will stay icy cold the whole time. Your Ecuadorian spaghetti & chicken will stay perfectly piping. The shrimp stew won't congeal or cool. Your Tropical will be fizzy down to the last sip. I have no explanation for this. If you're not convinced you *might* be in South America, try a tamale or three... and once you've been swayed, try three more.
Mi Comida is as authentic as it gets... so authentic that I'm not sure why I end up in a strip mall in Arizona every time I walk outside. Whatever the case may be, prepare to exit the wormhole impossibly full and possibly sleepy. It's all part of the magic.
|