Mission Mission

This will not end well.

This one is easy.  Instead of wasting time with salty peanuts and stale pretzels, why not take a page from the book at Tropico’s, a classy Tijuana joint?  Here we have caliente peanuts, wafers smothered in Valentina hot sauce, and Japanese peanuts.  Bartender professionals, we can make this happen, right?

[Photo courtesy of Phil Strnad]

Dear El Farolito, Cancun, El Metate, Pancho Villa, et al (except for you Cu Co’s–we’re still cool):

We’ve been through a lot together and I definitely still love you, but I think we need to have a little talk.  You see, I strayed a bit too far this past weekend, and now I’m not sure I can ever go back.  Hey, please don’t cry.  Let me explain.

Waking up to Tijuana sunshine the morning after playing a show with a bunch of Mexican hardcore kids, there was nothing I wanted more than a taco.  And wow, just like Bo knows baseball, Tijuana knows tacos.

Now that’s a taco.  Basically a metric shit ton of marinated shrimp sizzled in spices and served with a dixie cup of tortilla soup broth, a pile of just-fried tortillas (see what they did there?), a monstrous bag of still-hot tortilla chips, ridiculously fresh Pico de Gallo, and the best green avocado salsa that I’ve ever had.  Commenting on the price might seem insensitive given the harsh economic realities of our trade policies, but rest assured the whole thing was cheap as hell.

Even the corner taco stands had the right idea.  You walk up, sit down, and order a few.  The taco chef (love that phrase) slices a few pieces of pastor from his shawarma skewer and tosses it onto the grill.  A minute later he throws it on a tortilla already deftly dipped in the grease catcher and serves it with plentiful portions of guacamole and grilled onions.  You pile on some salsa as you sit on a stool at the stand and satiate the stretch receptors in your belly.

If that doesn’t quite do the trick, simply ask the gentlemen for a few more and he’ll go through the process again.  Once you’ve had enough, tell him how many you’ve had, pay your tab*, dismount your stool, and confidently walk away, leaving fellow patrons muttering in disbelief over the amount of habanero salsa that damn gringo was able to stomach.

*Tijuana taquerias and carts all seem to operate on the honor system.  Even places that have counters and seating.  Go ask  the dude for two tacos and he’ll just give them to you.  Finish them and ask for two more.  Keep doing it.  Once you’re stuffed, saunter over to the counter (not always close in proximity to the taco guys and always staffed by different people) and tell them how many you’ve had.  They multiply that by a dollar (or 12 pesos, the going rate for tacos these days), you pay, and everyone is happy.  I’m not saying this would work in the Mission (it wouldn’t), but it was still neat.

…according to Mollie C, whose photo here makes me want to sprint to the nearest Walgreens and load up on Advil Allergy Sinus. How’s everybody feel?

I just wanted to clear this up for you. Scott has one Scootter [sic] 4 Sale Two, in addition, I think, to a flatbed truck. Now, if you wish to purchase his 40 (?) year old van, which may or may not still run, you are out of luck in ’10.

Capisce?

If you need to see it bigger.

A couple weeks ago it came to light that there is a serious pierogi deficiency in the Mission. A handful of helpful souls have started thinking about how to rectify this injustice, and this week we received word of a couple more possibilities:

Amber wants to have a pierogi party this weekend.

Joe wants to start a pierogi business ASAP.

Get in touch if you’re game!

Photo by _Tawcan.

Whoa, today Beth Spotswood devoted a whole post to whether or not our old pal Amanda is a hipster. There’s a MGMT reference, some discussion and it all concludes with Amanda’s 10-point definition of hipsterism. I like this part:

No, I am not a hipster Beth. God, you always think me and my friends are hipsters. We are so not. We WISH we were hipsters. Hello? We don’t do coke until 4am. We don’t go to gallery openings. I go to Starbucks, Beth.

You mean if you start your coke binge at 4am you’re in the clear? Duly noted. Thanks, gals!

Anyway, is Amanda a hipster? You be the judge.

Previously:

Costco Hipster

Hipster Pizza

Messenger Bag Full of Hipster Spawn

Take My Hipster Wife, Please

Sexiest Hipster

Reader Scott B. sends word of an accident (not pictured):

[D]id you guys hear anything about the car chase on Bryant that ended in two cars smashing into each other and some parked cars?

Nope. Anyone?

Photo by y3rdua.

You Might Find Yourself had a “fancy pants tea party” in the park over the weekend apparently.

Man, my mom made me go to a lot of fancy pants tea parties when I was a kid and NONE OF THEM EVER HAD BIG DADDY I.P.A.! What’s up with that, Mom?

[via generic1]

Grub Street this morning has a bunch of local bartenders telling us why vodka is bunk (it’s flavorless and boring, doye).

Brooke from Range bemoans that the vodka-based Vin de Pamplemousse cocktail remains her bestseller even with a bevy of tastier and more inventive offerings on the menu. And then Neyah from Nopa goes off, explaining what a sham the entire vodka industry is. It’s a good read.

The thing is, I love a big complex cocktail like Beretta’s Improved Whiskey more than anything. But sometimes I crave a simple swallow of vodka too. Like how you love a big multi-course feast out at a Michelin-starred destination kitchen, but sometimes just crave box mac and cheese?

Also, last week in Austin I highly enjoyed a few Tito’s and sodas, all while highly enjoying a showcase performance by *Gin* Wigmore no less. (Tito’s is some kind of artisanal Vodka handmade in Austin, and Gin Wigmore is some kind of Amy Winehouse sound-alike handmade by some guys that used to play guitar for Bryan Adams apparently.)

So, what of it? Can we still love vodka even if we acknowledge that it’s mostly boring?

Photo by brickfrenzy.

UPDATE: Oh! PLUS, Absolut seems to have sponsored this new Spike Jonze movie, which looks like it might be good (or at least, better than that last thing he did), so, cut them some slack or something maybe? Maybe.