I’m not a big one for tradition. I’m not sentimental or conventional. I actually enjoy being a bit of an outlier.
Call me, Malcolm.
But when I come back to Kansas City, there is a ritual that I simply have to complete before the first 24 hours are through.
I love everything about this local Mexican restaurant. I love driving up and seeing its homely exterior. I love the crowded parking lot that challenges every visitor. I love the swoosh of heat and cheese that greets you when you open the door.
I love the expected wait (but I love last night’s unexpected quick seating even better). I love the utilitarian tables, menus and rolled silverware. I love the freaky, modernistic artwork that hasn’t changed in a decade.
Most of all, I love the food. The chips and salsa. The queso dip. The nachos. The quesadillas and burritos. The fried ice cream like no other. The simple yummy goodness, the sameness of my Mexican food home away from home.
Well, what do you know?
I am sentimental after all.