What did you just call me?!
That’s right peeps, the majority of the blood running through mine and the misters veins is Irish (close second with Jer-Bear is Italian). One look at our fine, fair skin and you will realize we are nowhere near latino. And a pity that is…
We long to speak Spanish farther than to say “El gato es en los pantalones,” or “Como se dice?!”
We long for skin that doesn’t burn in under 5 minutes of sun exposure.
We long for Mexican fooooooooood!
That is why we can always find an excuse to hit up this place: Monte Alban Mexican Grill.
I spent several summers as a child in Texas with “authentic” mexican food and Monte Alban is just how I remember it being down South. JB jumped on the burrito train in college with a little introduction to The Bell to ease him in to the good stuff.
What’s the point of this lovely post?
There isn’t one if you’re never coming to Rochester so I’m sorry I strung you along like this. It isn’t fair to do in such a young relationship and I hope ours can survive this cruelty.
If you are in Rochester (or have an amazing little sister who lives there) you need to find your way here.
Oh, yeah, one more thing.
Best. Margaritas. Ever.
PP I may be slightly under the influence of one said margarita right now. (Mango, mmm…)