rev:text
| - You are what you eat -- Mexican, Italian, Middle Eastern, New American, or what have you. As the product of Lebanese parentage, hummus runs through my veins, but as a citizen of the southwestern United States, Mexican cuisine is just as much a part of my identity.
Believe me when I say, then, that Mi Pueblo delivers the goods. There's no pretension in the food here, no misguided attempt to take time-tested dishes and give them a New American flair. The carne asada burrito (which itself is little more than marinated beef wrapped in a tortilla) comes with a side of rice. The fajitas come with your choice of corn or flour tortillas, meat, onions and peppers. What more do you need?
My family ate at Mi Pueblo for lunch. The restaurant was criminally vacant. The decor was, well, who cares? Dress it up with sombreros and guitars, pipe mariachi music through the speakers -- it doesn't really matter. The food is the thing. If that sucks, no amount of ambience is going to persuade me to enjoy myself. And the food is good.
The burritos will only be conquered by those with the most voracious of appetites. The chicken tacos are compact, crispy and served with a jalapeno sauce that has to be blended with crack. I won't hear otherwise. The fajitas get the job done -- they aren't really my thing. Our server was pleasant, helpful and gave me my Negra Modelo with two lime wedges and a freezing cold, salt-rimmed glass.
Look, I'm a man of simple pleasures. I like dark Mexican beer, tasty burritos and good service. Mi Pueblo has all of these things. When it comes to Mexican food in the Valley, we have an embarassment of riches. The hit to miss ratio tends to swing in favor of the misses. You could easily do a lot worse than Mi Pueblo, so do yourself a favor and stop in.
|