Judge not, lest ye be flat-out wrong
Ok, so maybe I have been a little judgmental.
I really try to keep in the forefront of my mind that we all have reasons for the choices we make, and that it’s not good to make assumptions about a person because of their choices, even if the choices seem unconventional or jam-packed with tomfoolery. I mean…maybe I don’t know the whole story. Maybe I’d be more understanding if I had more information.
Or maybe I should assume I’d be more understanding if I had more information and just extend the understanding at the git-go.
See, here’s the deal. I have never understood why people go to a restaurant that specializes in a specific cuisine and then order outside that cuisine. Like, for instance, going into a Mexican restaurant and ordering a hamburger and french fries.
Last Friday Mr. Sparky wanted to go to Pepito’s, a local Mexican restaurant. I was agreeable, because let’s face it: when all else fails, loaded nachos. Mexican restaurants can be a little dicey for me due to the liberal use of that nasty soap-weed, cilantro, but I’ve learned to navigate around it pretty well. So with my finger on the nacho page I began scanning through the rest of the menu, looking for something that sounded tastier that some steak nachos. I was about to flip back to the nacho page when my eyes fell across the lunch menu, a page I’d disregarded because it was the dinner hour. And that is when I saw it.
Hamburguesa Del Sol. “Homestyle hearty burger topped with roasted pineapple, grilled onions, bacon, avocado, lettuce, tomato, french fries and a side of jalapeños.”
And suddenly, I became that person. You know, the one who goes into a Mexican restaurant and not only wants a burger and fries, but wants to order off the lunch menu at dinner time.
Our waiter came and I asked if the burger was available past the lunch hour. He assured me they could make it. So before I could think about it too much, I ordered it. Which is not like me, because I totally overthink every menu choice I make because I want to like what I get.
I was a little concerned about buyer’s remorse. What if this was some weirdly textured soy protein-horsemeat machine-stamped patty? What if it had a dry white bun and limp toppings? What if it came with soggy, greasy fries? After all, burgers aren’t exactly the focus of Mexican restaurants.
And then it landed in front of me.
Ir was beautiful. It sat on a yellow brioche-style bun with ultra-fresh toppings piled high. I believe it even had a slice of white cheese, although the menu didn’t say it would. It was surrounded by a moat of crisp french fries, the kind that are almost like fluffy inside.
And it tasted heavenly.
Seriously, the meat itself was off the charts. It was one of the best burgers I’ve had in ages.
I may never order Mexican food at Pepito’s again.
And I will never judge anyone else who doesn’t, either.