Following the Lard

For some people, the scent of meat and lard brings me to mind.

I'm sure there's a compliment in there somewhere, but damned if I can find it.

Weeks ago, I'd run into a friend who'd rushed to tell me about a taqueria he'd stumbled on while in search of a beer.

The place didn't serve alcohol, but the smells, while repugnant to him as a devout vegan, reminded him of me.

Why me, of all his flesh-loving friends, I have no idea.

But he was so excited for me to try it that he'd written down the name and a nearby business for a frame of reference.

I put it on my to-eat list and went about my business.

Out on my walk last week, he spotted me on Leigh Street as he began to bike across the intersection.

Riding over, he didn't even say hello, just, "Have you been to Tako Nako yet?"

Answering in the negative, I could see the disappointment on his face.

I'll move it up to the top of my list, I promised.

So on this sticky day, I turned my car in the direction of the southside to satisfy him and have lunch.

The guy at the counter inside the little green building had a basic grasp of English and I conveyed my taco choices in my language, not his.

Tongue, cow head and Chorizo, a mere dollar each.

Did I want onions on them was his only question.

He did look a little surprised when I said I'd be eating in, but the air conditioning felt wonderful and there were plenty of tables, so why not have an immersive experience?

I picked up the Tidewater Hispanic News, not that I read Spanish, but to see what I could glean.

Seems the White House has put in solar panels, not tough to decipher given that those two words apparently don't have a Spanish equivalent.

The big screen was set to a Mexican soap opera and some impassioned, dark-eyed, curly-haired man was repeatedly professing, "Ti amore!" to the comatose blond in the hospital bed.

And speaking of blonds, fully three quarters of the actresses in the show were fair-haired. It seemed a bit odd.

My food was delivered on a tray complete with two grocery store napkins sporting a strawberry design.

All three tacos were tasty. It may have been my first cabeza, Chorizo's always a no-brainer, but I'm a sucker for lengua so I saved the best for last.

When I got up to leave, I saw that the order-taker was deeply engrossed in the soap, so I dumped my debris and made for the door.

"Come back again!" he called, looking up momentarily from the drama.

Maybe. A $3.15 lunch is hard to beat, although it's a bit off the beaten path for me.

But now I can give a full report to the man who hasn't eaten meat since before I met him.

The things I'll do for a friend.