Taco-ville

I had a great time in Nashville at NYWC '08. I had planned to meet up with Rooter, but as I flew into Tennessee, he was on his way to England. He came home as I was leaving. However, he gave me a few pointers to some of the more authentic restaurants and places to check out while I was there.





One restaurant was the San Antonio Taco Company. It was an experience just to be there. When you walk in the door, you are met by a wooden rail that corrals you into a narrow aisle. The stuccoed walls and woodwork are covered by the handwriting of people leaving their names behind to honour the establishment. I thought it was my duty as a patron to share my name and lend my pen to those who were with me.



















Neon lights emanated a tavern-like glow, illuminating icons of beer and salsa. The backdrop was an old cantina with cattle skulls, unfinished boardwalks and balconies, and tables that look like they've been suffering decay outdoors for years. I snapped back to the reality that I was being herded down the chute toward the teller at which time I am to pay. But wait! I have to fill out the menu card to let the cook know what to make for me and put on it; and the form had a backside to select the drink of my choice - mostly a variety of alcohol and some soft drinks. (DON'T DRINK THE WATER - I was sure I saw a sign that said that somewhere in the building...).



Once we have funnelled through to the cashier with our little sheets and greenbacks in hand, we wait and watch as the food is prepared before our eyes by virtually unintelligble black men shouting out jokes and orders to one another (I believe that's what they were doing - I had trouble understanding them of course).