After a long, cold winter in the Midwest, we welcome any and all reasons to flee to the warmer states where the lucky people live. In February, my husband and I did just that, heading west for some R&R (okay, fine, we went for the sunshine).
While we were there, we did a little lounging,
a little hiking,
and we ate some fantastic food.
Seriously. It was so fantastic that a month and a half later I’m still thinking about it. And wishing I were eating it rather than whatever miscellany I can find in my pantry.
Our first meal after touchdown was at a place we stumbled on, called True Food Kitchen. Fanfreakintastic, I’m telling you. There wasn’t anything there that didn’t look like they just picked it at a farm around the corner, like an hour ago. It tasted the same way. The flour tacos were fresh (did they grind them in the back?), the cilantro, oh my goodness, the slivers of steak, the fresh tomatillo salsa, the Cotija cheese and Anasazi beans, I can’t even begin to tell you how good it was. Picture this: like children, we had to put our forks down so we wouldn’t inhale it. And I do mean inhale.
You know how that goes, though. After that, every morsel was up for comparison. Our second day in the lovely, warm town, we hiked Camelback Mountain (a trek I highly recommend for the adventuresome types out there). Our perky guide, Kaitlyn, was full of information not just about Camelback but anything we’d dare to ask. I asked about food.
“The Vig,” she said, “go there.” And so, with True Food Kitchen as the high bar, we made our way to a place that looked seriously sketchy from the road. More like a warehouse, or strip club, maybe, than a hip, happening restaurant. But I guess that’s the thing, right? If it tried too hard, it wouldn’t have the same mojo.
Upon Kaitlyn’s recommendation, we ordered the Deconstructed Fish Taco Salad. And, yes, it was amazing. You don’t hear me say that very often. I mean, a view can be amazing, or a pair of shoes can be amazing, but a fish taco? A-maz-ing!
Slow food doesn’t come cheap, but I swear to you this very second, people, that we wouldn’t touch processed crap with a ten foot pole if food this good was our choice.
And isn’t it? Food for thought (and a Michael-Pollanesque post for another day).
