We’re old. Not chronologically per se, but simply in our habits. Nevertheless, we decided to fight the gravitational pull of our couch and go out for the evening on the town with our friends B. & V.
Dinner was at El Fogoncito over by Wanda Plaza. I grew up in New Hampshire, so I can hardly claim to be an expert on authentic Mexican food, but I do go to graduate school in the Central Valley of California and have probably had more dinners at the local taquerias than is healthy for my cholestorol level. I have to say the food at Fogoncitos is pretty good. The taco shells and chips tasted a bit stale, but overall the rest of the dishes were decent and the relative authenticity was a nice shift from the Tex-Mex focus of the other Mexican offerings in town. The service on the other hand was…hysterical. Not funny–though there were moments–but bordering on actual hysteria. The waitress took a few tries getting the order right, she was sweet and polite, but became progressively flustered as she forgot to serve certain dishes while doubling up on others. The much-discussed mariachi musicians (who, to debunk a rumor, are