Hermanos Solis #2- Big Brother is Watching You
470 Old Robstown Rd
Corpus Christi, TX 78408
(361) 881-8805
I have to be very careful with what I say, here or anywhere. There are agents among us. They just put up a camera at the intersection near my business and I think it’s pointed at my t-shirt shop. I hear noises in the night on my 2nd story porch outside my bedroom and I worry there’s something in the water at my shop. I know that I am probably on a number of lists, and that I’m a prime candidate for re-eduction, even though I am a faithful and honorable supporter of the state and have never spoken ill of it… at least not in quarters that are unsafe. I learned yesterday of new guidelines dictated by the Federal Trade Commission – an appointed, not elected body – that require disclosure of any commercial relationships between blogs and the recipients of their endorsements in apparent contradiction of the First Amendment to the constitution of the Great United States of America. This will thusly lead to additional taxation, investigation, and eventually destruction of the very fabric of our cherished free society – or at least additional taxation. Did I mention they want to tax us? Taxes are bad! Boo on taxes!
Before the guidelines go into effect on December 1st I might as well take as much advantage as I can of the payola I receive to endorse all these taco joints – a list that includes, well… Okay, I’ve never received a single taco for free. I’ve been hoping, but I’m still waiting. I did have a restaurant owner ready to fight when he saw me taking pictures of his shop once so I guess I was close to getting a free knuckle sandwich but that’s about as close to quid pro quo as it has gotten.
So Kevin and I met this morning at a safehouse in his neighborhood, Hermanos Solis #2. We’d been there before and we knew it was deep enough in the badlands to evade the oversight of the jack-booted imperialist thugs, or so we thought. I ordered my usual, carne guisada and chorizo & egg with a coffee, not wanting to draw attention to myself by getting something outlandish. The hat had become complacent though, and got not one but two exotics.
The tacos were good. The carne guisada fell apart with the gentlest prodding of the fork and the chorizo & egg was quite serviceable. The warm salsa could have doubled as a tomato and jalapeño soup, but it would be a soup you’d regret eating after an hour or two. The real standout for me were the tortillas, charlie brown and very fresh. You can see the cracking in the picture but you can’t see how soft they were. They gave a little bit of life to every bite.
Kevin & I sat and while going through cup after cup of excellent coffee we discussed our plans for resistance and the futility of holding out hope for freedom in the face of such power as big brother wields, and then – I have a nauseating sinking feeling as I look up and see a blinking red light in the corner, attached to a motion detector. This place is wired! There’s an improbably narrow and steep staircase leading up to a hidden level containing who knows what! Have we been compromised? Hermano is Spanish for, that’s right, ‘brother’… I fear this is a front for the oppressors! We paid our tab in cash and rushed out as quickly as we could and drove away, but not before seeing eyes peering out at us through the little windows of the restaurant with the good tacos.
From the Hat
This just in from the Ministry of Everything-Except–Tacos:
In the interest of full disclosure, I’d like to say that, If there’s a taco-blog-related form of payola goin’ on out there…where’s the foldin’ money discretely tucked into my shirt pocket? Or my free taco? (Not in my pocket, please.)
Early this morning, not even half-way through the paper, I thought to myself, “Hermanos Solis this morning…Oooo good.” My next thought was “Hermano Soliz this morning… ”Oooo bad!” I knew I was going to get a good taco. Good Taco? Good for my heart? Good for my waistline? Did I take my Prilosec last night? Or will it be a good Heartburn?
Of course I had a good taco. I’ll get to the details in the safety meeting, but it’s worth noting that I’m perfectly aware of the contradictory nature of a taco. Sure there’s a bit of dissonance, but I don’t seem to be hampered in my ability to get on in life. With hardly an acknowledgement of the risks, I sail through breakfast unhampered by the whole problem of taco-evil. In fact, once dealt with in this fashion, I don’t have to worry about it again until next time. It’s probably just as well. Life would be much more difficult if we couldn’t deal with this kind of conflict.
This is a trivial example, but what about when we do the same thing with climate change? Or War? Or God? (Insert favorite pontification here.) I’d drag out the twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each for one of these topics, but one’s definitely religion, and I’m getting a whiff of politics from the other two. Not to be Sir Robin, but this is a taco blog…
Now to the safety meeting: Two good ones this morning: Tripas and Chicharrones con huevos. The tripas were clean and crispy – as if they had been washed with a firehose and flash-fried. Served on a brilliant corn tortilla with cebollas and cilantro, no hint of the north end of a Southbound farm animal here. The chicharrones offering was good, but not spectacular. It was a hefty taco and the eggs were delicious, but the chicharrones were under-represented. The salsa, served hot, is spicy and delicious. Great café coffee.
Salud
