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| - Oh, I love you, Comedor Guadalajara. R.I.L.F.
I loved you when you were also The Crystal Palace. I loved you as a child, when we would try to sneak into the pseudo-night club side and take peeks and our moms would drag us back like trouble-making ne'er-do-wells.
You've changed a lot since then, dropping the Crystal Palace half of your moniker, but your food is still as good as it always was. You're cheap, you taste great and you give a lot, even if your looks aren't spectacular, just like my favorite hookers (what?).
The Pechuga Asada, two whole chicken breasts grilled and tender, on top of a mound of rice and beans, is so delectable and awesome that I want to eat it constantly. But how can I, when the machaca chimichanga enchilada-style with plentiful guacamole and other assorted accoutrement beckon me?
And what of you, Green Chili? Your almost-soupy consistency, the potatoes, the carne, the color, the tortilla...too much to handle.
Oh, others, they will say that it tastes the same as other Mexican restaurants to them. That's because they haven't been spoon-fed all this shit for the past 25 years like we have, day in and day out, beaners that we are. We can taste the slightest change in the amount of cumin, or how much salt, or the way someone cuts their meat before cooking it, or the way they make their spanish rice, because we've eaten so damned much of it.
So that's how I know that this isn't so run-of-the-mill. That's why I love you, Comedor Guadalajara.
You're totally still a cutie, even at your ripe old age. R.I.L.F: Restaraunt I'd Like t....nevermind.
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