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There's a Seattle area chain called Taco Time, whose fare is about as authentically Mexican as your cousin Sven. But it's damn good anyway. Ain't cheap, though. Easily double the price of most fast food.
Pommes Frites might be the name of a New York shop that only sells French Fries, but in France, the home of cuisine, they love their pommes frites. They won't admit it, because anything English is taboo, but they cook their pommes frites in hot oil, just like the Brit recipe for chips. And I know you love your fish & chips, you told us so, of the time in Ireland, and most eloquently did you describe your experience.I like Montreal, but I love Paris. Crepes citron vs. poutine as a street food option has a lot to do with that.
Pommes Frites might be the name of a New York shop that only sells French Fries, but in France, the home of cuisine, they love their pommes frites. They won't admit it, because anything English is taboo, but they cook their pommes frites in hot oil, just like the Brit recipe for chips. And I know you love your fish & chips, you told us so, of the time in Ireland, and most eloquently did you describe your experience.
There's a Seattle area chain called Taco Time, whose fare is about as authentically Mexican as your cousin Sven. But it's damn good anyway. Ain't cheap, though. Easily double the price of most fast food.
When I lived in Scotland in the early '70s you could get your fish&chips with "brown sauce" similar to A-1 sauce, surprisingly good.But I'd never douse 'em in gravy. Malt vinegar.... possibly.
I went into a bar/ restaurant on our lake in northern Wisconsin ("drove" to dinner by boat) that offered enchiladas on the menu. I asked the waitress if they were suizas, and if they were served rojas or verde.
Dear wife chastises/ hollers at me: "You're in northern WISCONSIN!! She doesn't know WHAT THE HELL you're TALKIN' ABOUT !!"
Thus passes efforts at building bridges of cultural understanding...
Good is good never mind authentic.There's a Seattle area chain called Taco Time, whose fare is about as authentically Mexican as your cousin Sven. But it's damn good anyway. Ain't cheap, though. Easily double the price of most fast food.
I went into a bar/ restaurant on our lake in northern Wisconsin ("drove" to dinner by boat) that offered enchiladas on the menu. I asked the waitress if they were suizas, and if they were served rojas or verde.
Dear wife chastises/ hollers at me: "You're in northern WISCONSIN!! She doesn't know WHAT THE HELL you're TALKIN' ABOUT !!"
Thus passes efforts at building bridges of cultural understanding...
"Mayberry" gets a "like" from me.One of the best, most authentic Mexican restaurants I ever visited was in Mt. Airy, North Carolina. Yep..."Mayberry". You never know...
Interesting. It seems that any time I've heard of someone getting sick from fast food, it has ALWAYS been at Taco Bell.
Those "squeeze" bottles, the ones that are supposed to stand upside down, with the tight punctured "cross" dispenser.
I have never used one without spraying the ketchup/mustard/etc. over the plate and on to the table.
So I now unscrew the cap when I'm forced to use the damned things...
One of the best, most authentic Mexican restaurants I ever visited was in Mt. Airy, North Carolina. Yep..."Mayberry". You never know...
Squeezy containers are one of the Boys' more nefarious inventions. You buy an exact measure of a product but the container is structured in such a way that you can't get every bit of what you purchased out of the container without hacking it apart with scissors. That's exactly what I do when I'm forced to buy one -- and all the product goes straight into a glass jar, so I am sure I get every drop I paid for.
They are also horrid for 3 year olds, who (fascinated by both the "sound" and the act of squeezing) take far too much of said product. And make lame jokes about flatulence whenever they see said container.Squeezy containers are one of the Boys' more nefarious inventions. You buy an exact measure of a product but the container is structured in such a way that you can't get every bit of what you purchased out of the container without hacking it apart with scissors. That's exactly what I do when I'm forced to buy one -- and all the product goes straight into a glass jar, so I am sure I get every drop I paid for.
They are also horrid for 3 year olds, who (fascinated by both the "sound" and the act of squeezing) take far too much of said product. And make lame jokes about flatulence whenever they see said container.
So really trivial. A good one:
The shelf down in front of your cash-dispenser, where you can lay down your portemonnaie in the meantime.
Men, I'm just 1,80 meter, but everytime, I have to bend over forward, half and so unconvenient, because the shelf is so low.
Hey, is little town's bank-institute for little-town's 1,40m liliput-people, or what?