Love . . Actually


Of all the things that are too short, I don’t happen to think life is one of ’em. Coffee breaks are too short. Shirts too. Kit Kat bars? Definitely too short. And Vera Farmiga nude scenes . . much too short.

But the idea that tacos dare trespass our gullets on a Shakespearean tragedy level of infrequency? That there is wronger than a Trump cabinet appointee. On a Deepak Chopra big motion picture level of depressing, in fact. Soooooo . . . me and Linds B did a thing tonight. We fixed up a night out that actually rhymed, with taco.

And we did this tasty thing, without trying.

We hit the 511 Cafe, which is a cute little ditty of a jukebox corner joint that’s tucked into the top shelf of Lancaster City’s kitchen cabinet. Just enough of an out of the way locale to be worth all the fun. The 511 was one of our more beloved memories back inside a time when food searches meant something. As in, Cuban sammy something.

So after sitting down and shaking off the cold weather with a round of funny anecdotes, our waitress made the scene to warm things up in Longfellow cursive. Her name was Pixel, and that should’ve told us everything we needed to know about the evening. I mean, besides being one cool ass name, she brought game.

So me and Linds ordered up our friendly drinks, because . . priorities.

Linds B got things running with a rum and coke. I ordered up a pint of Rogue Dead Guy Ale. And then we threw down a couple more twisted anecdotes and we quibbled over what app to belly dance to. And our quibble went something like this.

We went with zucchini sticks. And Tuesday night was fitting swiftly into its side pocket definition when Pixel let loose with her Lit Chick mad skill set when she re-purposed “Taco Night” in such a way that . . hell, I ain’t seen nor heard of such a bargain since five dollar matinees went extinct.

If you read our blog on any kind of regular, then you are probably down with the fact that our “Search for the Tastiest Taco” thing never got off the ground, seeing as how we are smack dab in the middle of a place that doesn’t rhyme with the left coast. We do savory and sweet just fine in these environs, but tacos? Not so much.

Linds refused the taco come on, seeing as how she ain’t easily taken to sweet talking now that she’s in love. Me? I was saying yes this way . . .

After which, Trump’s wall seemed but a Jack Skellington wet dream to the ‘What Have We Here?’ lunar step we done took. Because the filet was blackened to an extraordinarily sexy bit of spice, pepper and lime whose sole purpose? Was to get me pregnant.

We done got vindicated on a night that had nothing to do with food searches. And so it happened that we were duly inspired by the swift and earnest lever of coincidental fever that led us to a joint that ended up talking us into starting up a brand spanking new food search.

Our rules, this next time.

Because life ain’t too short, so long as you bring the flavor.





42 thoughts on “Love . . Actually”

    1. She was so much fun, and it was funny because the first thing she did was tell us it was “Taco Night”, something which had been the bane of our food searching existence until then.

      It was kismet!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. B,

    Ya got a way with words that remains unmatched…. Pixel’s got a name that is outta dis world.

    Sounds like the best of nights. Fab friends, good beverages and a food discovery you were not expecting. Nothing better than finding something you weren’t even looking for and realising it was up *there* in your criteria.

    Cheers to finding the flavour.


    Liked by 2 people

    1. Q,

      It was the first and only taco endeavor we will undertake, seeing as how it was a walk off homer/drop the mic/sunset in the background food moment. No need to push our luck, and really, we just needed to kick start the next food search somehow.

      The filet was done to a succulent turn, and it was an entire filet . . not just chopped up pieces. Seasoned to a turn, presented in a perty package of yum.

      It’s back to flavor-ville for us!


      Liked by 1 person

      1. The search and recovery of the lost taco, as I told Mark, was a relative victory. It was really, really good, but I was never under the mistaken assumption that these tacos were heavyweight status. They brought the flavor and for that, I was thankful.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. And, “at the end of the day” (gawd I loathe that expression), that is all that matters, right? You were pleasantly surprised and enjoyed them in the moment for what they were. A most tasty treat.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s dawned on me you’re in England, am
    I right? I love the beginning, like a tantalizing lead in a newspaper, it grabbed me right away. I’m not into Tacos but can appreciate one’s lust for them. It’s how I feel about donuts but try to abstain. Pixel…was she very short and wore a beanie with a little copter blade on the top? That’s the image that floated by, carrying a tray twice her size with the strength and deftness Gulliver. You write very well by the way. Takes a lot to engage me the haughty reader I am. Will be back since the piece was good to the last drop. Ho Ho

    Liked by 1 person

    1. England huh? I’ve gotten that before, believe it or not. Perhaps it’s the residual of all those classics I devoured as a young ‘un, in the age before MTV.

      I’m from this side of the pond, sad to say. Sad, because England wouldn’t be the worst locale. Dark and dreary coordinates well with the inner me.

      I ain’t the biggest taco fan, but these fish tacos hit the spot. And it wasn’t just the friendly beverages talking me into ’em.

      Pixel was diminutive, with big roar. And yes, she kicked that tray’s ass!

      I’m glad I could corral you into reading!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. It does look like steak! But these were two fish fillets! Like . . the whole shebang, not chunked up and such as per the norm. Blackened to a succulent conclusion and when I paired it with me lager . . it was love. Actually!

      Happy Thanksgiving pal!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Fish does NOT belong in a taco. That’s just so wrong on so many levels. And if her name was actually Pixel (I know that’s what she told you….), then my name is Peppermint Milkshake. I’m a Pepper!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oooooooooo! T-Siz with the slam dunks!

      First of all, I didn’t realize you were anti-fish tacos. A purist eh? That’s coo. But lemme tell ya, they were kicking.

      And we didn’t vet her, so let’s just suspend disbelief on this one, can we? Is that cool with you, Pepper? 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  4. The fact that her name was Pixel started this food adventure on a right note. Plus your ‘call it friend’ argument was cracking me up. Dude. That sums up a lot of discussions for sure! But I’m so glad that your never-traveled taco journey found you unexpectedly. And that you enjoyed it so much that you gave it a post! Nice. Good luck on your next Bourdain food quest!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Re: Pixel . . . I know, right?
      And the ‘call it friend’ moment happens all the time with Linds B. The girl is gangstah!
      I’m glad we got our taco tilt taken care of . . on a Tuesday. Tongue twister, for the win!

      Muchisimas gracias Cali! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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