The Great Parisian Plate Debate

Whenever someone finds out I live abroad, they invariably ask what I miss most about America. This seems like a pretty hard question, and once upon a time it was. After a few months living in London, however, the answer got easier. Now, a couple years later, I don’t even hesitate. People aside, I always preface, it’s the Mexican food.

A word on semantics: when I say Mexican, I’m using the broadest possible filter. Yes, I fully understand that most Tex-Mex food is no more Mexican than a California roll is Japanese, or crab Rangoon is Chinese. But that’s not the point: it tastes damn good.

I can’t comprehend it, but for some reason Velveeta, a “cheese-food” product which under normal circumstances I am morally opposed, takes on magical properties when melted with a can of rotel and eaten with fresh tortilla chips.

To be clear, before Christian tries to warp my words, I am NOT in any way referring to Taco Bell.

I don’t know what it is, but Europe and Mexican food don’t mix. My first night in London I went to a going away party for a friend at a Mexican place in Covent Garden. I ordered the steak fajitas. They were almost inedible. That £16 plate was all it took-I had been indoctrinated into yet another club of bitter Americans. It hadn’t even taken 24 hours.

Even worse, I still haven’t learned. There are only two things you can be sure of: Mexican food will be expensive and it will disappoint. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve sworn it off, only to cave when some heartless bastard gets my hopes up with a new recommendation.

To date, the best Mexican I’ve had outside of North America was in Bangkok. Yes it was 3 am and yes I had been drinking(hey, it’s Bangkok). An old college buddy that lives there took me. Even though the quality was barely on par with Chipotle, it was the best I’d had in months and I devoured it.

There were signs up everywhere bragging that a local English language newspaper had ranked them among the 50 best things in Bangkok. An all-night dive Mexican restaurant is among the best things in Bangkok? The editors were clearly all American.

So that was my mentality when I went back to the States last week for a wedding in Austin. Wendy and Justin, the bride and groom, are not just two of my dearest friends, but also frequent accomplices to some extraordinary meals. I could not have hoped or planned for a better weekend of Texas-style gluttony.

Landing a little after 9 on Wednesday night, in under an hour I had a margarita in my hand, chips and salsa on the table, and steak fajitas sizzling to perfection on the grill.

I’ll let the pictures do the talking, but besides being ludicrously tasty, the food was cheap and the chips and salsa were free and endless.

The expression goes that everything’s bigger in Texas, and after plowing through some of those gigantic plates, I certainly understand why. I had a great time, but I would be in serious trouble if I actually lived there. I may eat a lot of food here, but at least in a 4 course meal, everything’s proportioned for supermodels, not linebackers.

If you’re reading this back in the states, do me a favor and go enjoy some tacos for me. I’m going to go have a glass of wine and maybe think about hunting down some escargots.