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| - the scene: san francisco girl fondly accustomed to cold and foggy summer days takes on a seemingly endless road trip to the fiery hell pits of arizona. desperately in search of good mexican food.
i never realized how much i hated being in cars until i took a road trip with my mom and dad a month ago. it's not my parents fault, i love hanging out with them. they're hilarious. only my dad can take a boring 15 minute story and turn it into an exciting 3 hour one, and only my mom can debate about something so ridiculous everyone ends up in a fit of laughter. i just don't like being held hostage for hours, trapped in a suffocating seatbelt...... we headed further away from san francisco and closer to LA, and then it hit me all of a sudden. all i could think about was how much i was craving an enormous margarita with some great mexican food.
i endured more hell when we were forced to turn off the A/C driving through the damn grapevine as my dad yapped on and on about the time my uncle jerry went on a 4 day casino binge with my auntie jeannie and an oxygen tank (don't ask).
we finally hit LA and proceeded east on Hwy 10 towards the arizona border while the thermometer crept towards triple digits.... i couldn't stop thinking that my enormous margarita and mexican food was getting closer by the minute. time dragged by as we passed a random cactus or five through indio, coachella and finally blythe, until the border finally came into sight. i was giddy.
the last stretch! through the 112 degree arizona desert to, downtown central phoenix... my mouth could already taste the margarita. it would be potent, it would be served in a large glass. on the rocks, no salt. i call my brother, hands shaking.... "JOEY dammit, i need good mexican. big margaritas. cheap. NOW!"
our little slice of heaven just happened to be about a block or so from my brothers place, so we picked him up along the way. i could hardly contain myself as we soared into Mi Patio's parking lot, my door already open before the engine was off.
i noted as we walked in it's not big or fancy, but it's cheerful, festive and warm. mom and pop type joint. you can tell by the smell, the food is going to be good.
yes, they serve $1.75 margaritas. you read that right, $1.75... my mom looked worried when she saw the gleam on my face. as you can probably guess, these cheap wonders aren't all that potent, or all that big. so i just ordered an extra shot with mine and the price was still only a few bucks more. the $2 beer specials made my dad pretty happy. the bar, already packed, seemed to be an obvious happy hour spot.
next the food. no salsa is ever hot enough for my dad. it burned my mouth pretty good, but i'm not exactly a manly man so i stuck to the milder one... my brother, dad and i all ordered the carne asada picado burro while my mom had the chicken burro. now my mom is a mere 97 lbs and rarely finishes her whole plate, so it's really a testament to this place that she almost did, or even tried. (especially since they really heap the food on) the collective response from around our table was... yummm. for the price, you're coming out way ahead. trust me.
halfway through dinner, as they seated 3 strapping phoenix police officers next to our table, i realized the quality of the food here wasn't just my imagination (or the effects of heavy tequila consumption). in my experience, anywhere you see a gaggle of local cops eating, is a sign of decent food. right?
i left there thinking, what sweltering desert? do your worst arizona! if you keep feeding me like this, i'll take on your heat any day of the week.
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