Here in Colorado, like every other state in the Southwest, there is an abundance of Mexican restaurants. They are woven into our collective fabric. On a cold, snowy Colorado night, there’s nothing quite like a big steaming bowl of posole, except, perhaps, a plateful of freshly made tamales, or chilaquiles. These things are as much my comfort food as fried chicken or biscuits and gravy (both owed to my Oklahoma roots).
Stepping through the door of any local favorite, one feels instantly at home. Sounds of Rocio Dúrcal and Pepe Aguilar might float angelically overhead. Aromas of jalapeño, cebolla (onion), and refritos (refried beans) greet the olfactories, while the lovely cadence of Spanglish falls on the ears. Chips and salsa are the expected hors d’oeuvre in every establishment worth its chili. Yes, to dine Mexican is a complete experience, not just a meal.
When I say, “Mexican Magic”, though, these arent what I’m talking about. They each add to it, I’m sure, and maybe it’s the intoxicating combination of them all, I dont know. What I do know is that no other kind of restaurant brings out the common love for life that a Mexican place does.
In my experience, people are just freer in Mexican restaurants. They greet each other with kisses on the cheek, genuine hugs (even men!), and they laugh! These places get loud with laughter and conversation. No matter what town I’m in, voices are joyful, not hushed. Faces wear smiles, and that is the magic.
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~Enjoy the Life you’re living.
VagabondStew 