Avoiding Chip Conflicts and Other Mexican Restaurant Etiquette

    I lived in Texas for about three years, and I find it safe to say that during my time there I became a true Tex-Mex connoisseur.  You really can't beat sitting in a crowded room with bright colors, listening to the sounds of a mariachi band, and smelling the production of fresh tortillas.  For this reason, I feel that I should share what to look for in a Tex-Mex restaurant and especially how to use your manners while dining.

Things to Look For:

    Before selecting a Tex-Mex restaurant, you first must be in the mood for some queso, margaritas, and something rolled in a tortilla.  After adjusting your appetite, decide what type of Tex-Mex you would like: one that leans more to the Tex or one more to the Mex....There is a difference.  If you want a meal that you can pronounce and have been able to pronounce since birth, I would recommend leaning more to the Tex.

Not kicking it.

    Once you have narrowed your search down to more Tex or Mex, the next step is to choose a restaurant by its name (as Shakespeare once wrote...."What is in a name?".....uh, everything).  The name has to be original yet witty.  "Tacos" and "Panchos" just don't cut it.  Try something like "Pappasito's Cantina" or "Tequilas"....Now that sounds like a fun time!  After excluding the boring restaurants by name, move on to looks.  Yeah, yeah...don't judge a book by it's cover....looks aren't everything....etc, etc.  Oh, but they are, and I believe we can all admit to this.  Is the restaurant in a mall or does it stand alone?  Things you should consider!
    Once you are inside, you should start judging the atmosphere.  Does it have a good ambiance?  Is there live music, but can you still hear yourself think?  How do things smell?  Use your senses!  Now, we focus on the food.  Are the chips fresh and flavorful?  PDub and I have run into terrible chips before, not a good thing.  Are the chips recycled from another table?  Health codes are not always met.  Moving on to salsa, it can make or break a restaurant for some people.  There are several avenues to go down.  It can be chunky, smooth, spicy, cilantro-y, etc.  This should be judged according to your own standards.  I judge a Tex-Mex restaurant by its queso.  If the queso doesn't live up to my standards, we won't be returning because I expect every dish I eat to be covered in this delicious queso.  It's the little things that count.

Miss Manners:

Chip conflicts....

Double dip???

    As for etiquette, Tex-Mex brings about the evilness in everyone because we have to share (a hard moment for most).  The waiter greets you with his name, a basket of chips, and a couple bowls of salsa.  The first thing everyone at the table does is reach for the best chip in the basket....What do you do?  Back down?....I think not.  Fight until the bitter death because every chip from then on will never be the same.  If you run into other chip conflicts that might not be over the best chip in the basket, then politely allow the other person to take the chip; it's not worth it to lose friends over a chip.  In addition to chip conflicts, double-dipping can also be a problem that you might run into.  Before committing two dives with one chip, first ensure that your fellow diners are okay with such an action.  If they are not, break your chips up and then dip.  If they will allow such a repeated immersion, just don't lick the chip between each dunk.  This should be a given, but people are not always raised in the same way.
    In addition to the dipping, you also must differentiate between a salsa scoop and a queso scoop.  At most restaurants, the salsa is endless, so scooping as much as you can is acceptable.  On the other hand, queso is limiting, so please take this into account when dipping your chip.  Allow for an acceptable amount of queso so that others may enjoy it just as much.  Lastly, there is always the last chip issue.  Instead of running into this problem, ask your waiter for a refill when the basket becomes low instead of empty.  If it does occur, allow someone else to devour the thing; there will be fresher chips to come.

Too full.

Just right.

    To conclude this Mexican restaurant etiquette piece, I must share some helpful information on how to  construct your fajita or any other food item that may require a tortilla and self-construction.  No one wants to view you straining the size of your mouth over an overly stuffed tortilla.  Also, casualties, as in food leakage, can be avoided by using my method.  First, dip a small portion of the filling into the tortilla; the bigger the tortilla, the more you can fill.  Second, fold the bottom up around your filling; then finish folding as normal with the two sides.  Proceed to eat from the open end.  With all sides closed except your open side, no food should fall out, and the portion size should be perfect!

    I hope that with this new knowledge, your Mexican restaurant dining experience will be forever awesome.  In honor of tasty Tuesday, head out and get you some tacos, margaritas, and especially queso!

If the guacamole is an unusual shade of green, refrain from eating it.

Caution: Too many margaritas may lead to this.

Maya at the Dog Park

    Occasionally when we have a lazy day, which happens to be almost every weekend, we will pack a bag with a frisbee, ball, and towel and head to the dog park.  Sometimes we may even take Maya.  The Shirlington Dog Park is located four miles from our apartment and allows the pups to run off leash.  The top two things that we love about it is the small dog area and the creek just next door.  The two things Maya loves about it is the endless bark-time she gets and the creek just next door.
    On the weekends, this park is full of playing, barking, and sometimes even humping dogs.  As you drive through the parking area, it seems like tradition to have to roll down your window and allow your dog to let the wind blow their ears and smells enter their noses.  It's quite humorous to see the line of cars practicing this tradition as they find parking.  Once you do find parking, it's a procession to get your dog through the gate and unleashed.  Just inside the gate, you are welcomed by friendly dogs needing a little love and yes, even the smell of dog poop escaping from the trashcans.
    We usually head to the small dog area where puppies and smaller dogs get to play with each other without being trampled by larger, careless dogs.  Of course Maya stays closer than our own shadows afraid of all the butt-sniffing dogs (which happens to be all).  After we walk her around in this area, we will head down to the creek where the big dogs are only focused on fetching tennis balls and don't worry about the small toy (Maya) that just entered their region.  Maya could care less about tennis balls when there is water around.  She prefers to walk/swim in the creek away from other wet dogs.

The small dog area just behind the fence.

Big Dogs!!!!  Yes, that rottie has his head completely under....

Mom! No more pictures!!!  Can't you see I'm on a top secret mission.

Swimming after PDub

Our lil' waterbug.

    After she has completed her wading (or really when we say it is time to go in because she would stick around the water all day), we towel her dry and head back to the car.  At the car, she will do her wet dance in the passenger seat which involves rubbing her ears and body along the chair.  I like to call it breakdancing and often supply her with a mad beat.  On the drive home, she usually passes out from all the excitement and then again in her bed at home.  Sometimes PDub and I will join her for an afternoon nap.  Dog Parks are tiring!

Does anyone smell wet dog? And I'm not referring to PDub.

Breakdancing....

Didn't even pull out of the lot before she passed out.

Rough day.....Sleep!

Paradise Springs Winery

    It was a rainy but cool Saturday, so we decided to pack up some snacks and head to the closest winery.  Paradise Springs Winery is located in Clifton, Virginia where it's not unusual to see houses dating back to the mid 1800's and absolutely no traffic lights.  Much of the town still maintains its history dating back to  the Civil War when Union soldiers were stationed to guard against Confederate invasion.  Having a railroad crossing so close, the town proceeded to grow after the Civil War and become what it is today.

    The grounds on which the winery is located date back even further.  The land was once a portion of the grant from Lord Fairfax in 1716 to the family, and much of this land has been kept in the family.  In 2007, the winery opened and produced its first vintage, the Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon.  The winery's name, Paradise Springs Winery, originated from the springs on the west side of Clifton.  In 1910, these springs gave rise to bottled water, and although this business is no longer present, the winery has taken over beverage production in the area.  If you can't have water, why not drink wine?

    When you pull into the winery grounds, the first building you see is a log cabin first built between 1800 and 1825 and later renovated in 1955.  On the other side of the lane is a field of grapes, signature to any winery.  The tasting room is large and elegant with a terrace overlooking the wooded area.  This is where we sat and listened to the band, indulged on some wine, and ate some cheese.  Life on a rainy day just doesn't get much better.

The tasting room.

The log cabin.

Grrrrrrrapes!!!

Da' Band.

Our responsibilities for the day....one not pictured :)

Rainy days don't get them down!

Zucchini

    One of the first projects we did after moving into our first home was mark off an area to plant a vegetable garden.  I didn't grow up with a vegetable garden and neither did PDub, but the thought of having one was too tempting to avoid.  Our first spring, we planted several veggies from green beans to squash.  Sadly, the only green we saw that summer was corn and weeds, and even the corn didn't produce well.  Now we have minimal choice in having a vegetable garden on our small little terrace.  During my trip back to Illinois, I envied seeing my Grandma's garden and was grateful to get to take home some zucchini and yellow squash.  It is the season for fresh veggies, so if you aren't eating them, start because they are soon to go out of style!

Our weeded over garden

    The zucchini is a vegetable grown on a vine above ground.  Unlike cucumbers (I often confuse the two), zucchini is generally cooked before eaten; it can be grilled, steamed, boiled, or baked.  The larger the zucchini, the more bitter it will be, so these large ones are generally better when incorporated into baked items, such as breads and cakes.  The smaller the zucchini, the better it will taste alone.  Growing up, my parents would have a fried zucchini party, where my dad would get his fingers dirty by dipping sliced zucchini in egg, milk, and flour before frying it.  I remember disliking the zucchini, so I would eat any fried batter that had stowed away.  However, taste buds change, and I now love this wonderful vegetable.  I have posted some recipes that I have recently enjoyed with my zucchini.  They are located in the tabs across the top of the page.  From our grubbage to yours.....Bon appetit!

The Story of My Fake Brothers

    In 1970, my parents jumped the broom, exchanged vows, or whatever you might call it.  Shortly after, my brother was born, and life went on with just the three of them.  That is until I blessed this world with my presence 17 years later.  My brother was a wopping 16 when he met his first and only sibling....Me!  Needless to say, we each grew up as an only child, or at least that's how it seemed to be.

My brother and me.

My parents....

    Not too long after I was born, my InposterBro came along.  Our parents were and still are very close friends, so it was inevitable that we would become crib buddies and eventually lifelong friends.  When we were little, we used to chill by a plastic pool our parents would fill up for us.  Yup, we were pretty cool.  Like any awesome pool, this one had a 2 foot slide that I would gracefully go down.  My belly-blessed ImposterBro, on the other hand, would fearlessly jump from the top, first getting my attention, "Watsch this!!", then prepping which consisted of a few stomps and a couple of toe raises, and finally belly bustering into the pool causing yet another need for a fill-up.  Sometimes my ImposterBro wouldn't even make it to the jump because somewhere in the prep he would slip and slide surprising himself with a face full of water.  He would also get distracted by wildlife that would also prevent his jump.  Butterflies are pretty amazing!  He really hasn't changed much...

    Things were going great, but then our lives were interrupted by the birth of my PhonyBro.  The three of us became inseparable watching Ninja Turtles, bike riding, and building on the tree house.  At one point, ImposterBro and I decided to test out the ever-popular atomic wedgie.  Who better to use this on than PhonyBro?  The underwear ripped before it ever made it above his head; he ran, looking like Tarzan, to tell on us.  Over the years, we got in plenty of trouble, but that's what you're supposed to do with your siblings!

    Although some people may not agree, we grew up.  ImposterBro and I met the loves of our lives and got married, and I'm sure PhonyBro isn't too far behind.  We made so many memories, and even though we may live all over the U.S. (ImposterBro on the west coast, PhonyBro in the midwest, and me on the east coast), we will always be family.

In The End

    Religion, no matter if its Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, or Buddhism, guides us to a certain way of life and sets out our own principles, but in the end, we all bleed, we all experience hunger, and we all lose ourselves to thought.  In the end, we are all human.  In the end, our combined differences amount to a bigger picture, that being a working world where each individual has their own critical niche.  Oftentimes, we, as humans, become indifferent to others' differences.  We may act out by judging them or refusing to befriend them, but in the end, we are all still human.
    Adolphe Hitler swept through Germany persuading its people and clouding their minds with backwards science of genetic cleansing and ridding the world of all but the Aryan race.  Many joined him while others sat back and watched as their friends and fellow humans were singled out, taken away, and stripped of everything they had.  A Jewish Rabbi and Holocaust survivor once said, "In times of evil, if you are indifferent to evil, you are evil."  Hitler, his followers, and yes, even those who sat by and watched caused a heartless tragedy that we now remember as the Holocaust.
    Yesterday, Doubles Shark-Whisperer and I visited the National Holocaust Museum to remember such an evil period in history.  As you walk through the exhibit, you first experience Nazi Propaganda and how Hitler came to power.  Then you see how the Jews were singled out and often moved to ghettos.  From the ghettos, they would be moved again to concentration camps where they would work or would meet death in the gas chambers.  To me, the most memorable exhibit is the room of shoes.  Before the Jews were gassed, all of their clothing including their shoes was removed.  This room contains hundreds of shoes that reflect the heaviness of the situation.  The smell alone is enough to weigh you down.  You finish the exhibit by watching and listening to survivor's accounts.

Shoes

A quote from Elie Wiesel's novel "Night":

Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, that turned my life into one long night seven times sealed.

Never shall I forget that smoke.

Never shall I forget the small faces of the children whose bodies I saw transformed into smoke under a silent sky.

Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith for ever.

Never shall I forget the nocturnal silence that deprived me for all eternity of the desire to live.

Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes.

Never shall I forget those things, even were I condemned to live as long as God Himself.

Never.

    The Holocaust was a horrible time in human history that many are determined to forget and others will carry with them forever.  Religion may be one difference among human beings, but strangely enough, the golden rule, "Love thy neighbor as thyself," is common to all religions.  Here are some quotes from religious texts:

Judaism:  "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Islam:  "Not one of you is a believer until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself."
Christianity:  "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."
Buddhism:  "Hurt not other with that which pains yourself."
Hinduism:  "Never do to others what would pain thyself."
Taoism:  "Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain and your neighbor's loss as your own loss."

Before living by this principle, we must first ask ourselves how we would like to be treated and if that way is morally correct; after this, we must actively use this rule.  If we are truly living in the ways of our religion, then accepting other people's differences should be simple.  Sadly, judgement of others and genocide still occur, but we can do our best to fight for difference.  We can remember the past and possibly find change for the future, for even after we have been stripped of all material things and all of our worth, we are, after all, still human in the end.

Truckeroo

    Last Friday, PDub and I walked two blocks through the heat, fought crowds of people for 45 minutes on the metro, and finally arrived at our stop, Navy Yard.  Our destination and purpose: a food truck and dinner.
    When growing up, the only food truck that I knew of was based out of an old postal truck, ran only in the summer, and sold snow cones.  I still recall the excitement when a distant bell would reach my ear, and I would go racing out of the house to meet the snow cone man, a summertime hero.  Many of you can probably relate more to ice cream trucks with their blaring music and trail of kids running behind.  However, major cities, such as D.C., have food trucks that offer more than a frozen sandwich.  Some are even run by chefs and offer gourmet foods to the locals.  It's perfectly normal and most convenient to head out for a quick bite over your lunch hour to find great food being served from a truck.
    For a little history, the food truck was first created shortly after the Civil War.  More and more Americans began to migrate and settle west, which called for a high demand of cattle in uninhabited areas.  The Texans began moving their cattle but found it quite difficult to do so without a nearby railroad.  To simplify their journey, the food truck was invented, where the grub was carried in a carriage instead of on a railcar, so the cattleman were able to easily satisfy their hunger.  From horse and carriage to gas-powered vehicles, the food truck has evolved from serving dried meat to freshly cooked meat.
    On Friday, a festival called Truckeroo took place where over 20 food trucks from around the D.C. area gathered in Navy Yard to serve hungry folks.  We feasted on fancy grilled cheese sandwiches, oyster po' boys, and cupcakes.  Like any great festival, they served beer and lemonade, and bands played throughout the evening.  Who would have known that eating from a truck could be so entertaining?

Those are some really excited Truckeroovians!

A line of yummy food trucks.....

Landshark and red velvet cupcakes....Yum!

Wine through a straw....classy?  No question there.

Remembering a Bean-Filled Craze

    It started with one and ended with over 300.  At one point in time, they were the toy of choice, perfectly displayed in my bedroom and played with nearly everyday.  They now sit in two trash bags in the attic of my parents' house.  Eventually, their value, based not on money but attachment, will be determined, and in the end a future will be selected: give away or keep.  Every toy, including this great collection, must be questioned under these standards.  Someday, I will face this decision, but until then, my Beanie Babies shall sweat it out in the heat of the attic.
    The Beanie Babies craze swept over Salem, IL and lasted for only a few years.  However, during this period, kids and collectors adopted vicious, undermining personalities only to acquire the best collection possible.  Friendships were made and broken, and just like any limiting stuffed animal addiction, groups and phone trees were formed.  When a new shipment came in, only a select few were contacted with this information.  Approximately three stores in Salem, IL carried the Beanie Babies, so new shipments had to be kept under the radar if you and your friends were going to be the first to buy the store out of only the three new ones in stock.  After school, a mad rush to these stores would occur resulting in a winner or falling just short of obtaining yet another one.
    Each child convincingly told their parents that Beanie Babies were going to become collectibles in the future and therefore worth so much more.  Of course, the parents jumped on the bandwagon as well.  My parents would run me through the McDonald's drive-thru so I could see if they had any new mini-Beanie Babies.  I'm sure they had to take me like once a day during this Happy Meal extravaganza.  I still have pictures of me at my birthday surrounded by at least twenty Beanie Babies, gifts from my parents who I am sure frantically shopped to find ones I did not already have.
    In the fourth grade, one of my teachers was exhausted with her students bringing in their Beanie Babies and playing with them that she brought in a box labeled "The Beanie Baby Babysitter Box."  She was elected by far the coolest teacher after this creativity.  Children, including myself, learned how to take care of their toys, seeing that these would be worth something in the future.  The TY tags were left attached and kept intact with plastic covers, and playtime was limited.  Eventually, the Beanie Baby craze ended just as abruptly as it started.  I'm sure some of us 90's kids have already faced the decisions of getting rid of these once collectibles.  Others, like me, probably dread that day when the fate of such animals (stuffed) will be determined.  Until then, I know that they are safe and sound at my parents' home.

The original nine first released in 1993.

A Day in the Life of Maya

    I must share a normal day for Maya.  Why, because oftentimes I elect to spend my days on her schedule, and it is quite refreshing.  Maya will usually wake-up 20 minutes before the alarm is set (of course) and ask to go outside.  Maybe I should elaborate on this.  She will place her chin across your breathing apparatus (mouth and nose), and with your response, she will flip over on her back, which we all know as the universal "rub my belly" signal.  As she gets a belly rub, Maya will awake more of your senses by muttering an obnoxious noise; there's really no way to explain this sound other than she might be dying.  After her belly rub needs have been fulfilled, she will then jump down from the bed and wait.  Sadly, Maya is not patient when it comes to waiting.  If one of us does not get out of bed immediately, she throws a complete tantrum which included frantically jumping up and down, loudly crying out, and running from the door back to the bed.  This will continue until you get out of bed.
    Maya then goes out on the back terrace where she has found to be the most private and safe place to complete her duty.  After picking up any solids and rinsing off the terrace (and using the bathroom myself), Maya and I usually go back to bed while PDub is awoken by his time-to-get-ready-for-work alarm.  Maya and I sleep for about another hour before she throws a fit again.  This tantrum is an indicator that she needs, no, requires breakfast.  After she devours her breakfast like any dachshund would, she goes back to bed.  Another hour goes by before she awakens, stretches, and proceeds to play.  Playing generally consists of chase, hide-and-seek (she's a great finder), or fetch.  After this, she hits the couch for some R&R.  This might be interrupted to bark at some sounds in the hallway or to move to a different location, but otherwise, she sleeps all day.
    Typically an hour before PDub gets home, we will go on a walk through the park.  Maya, a few homeless people, and I are typically the only ones inhabiting this area, but sometimes this changes.  Today, for instance, my cute little dog (and me) was surrounded by about ten 12 year old girls with softball shirts on needing to pet Maya.  Maya has yet to become comfortable on our city walks, so as you may guess, she peed herself a little with this much attention (I might have too).  The girls' coach finally told them to move on while I mouthed a "Thank you."  This was a unique and traumatic experience for Maya seeing that little girl attacks don't always happen.  Anyway, when we return home from our walk, Maya usually gets another nap in before she sits and waits at the door for PDub to get home.  PDub arrives and Maya is all greetings and wiggles (the girl knows how to shake her hips) as if he has been gone for weeks.  She then gets in another playtime before eating and hitting the naps right before bedtime.

Sleep.....

   

Play.....

 

More Sleep.....