Highcombe & Endicott West
. . . or: Life Imitates Art
I am on a writing retreat with my brother Phil, at Endicott West. Last night he got into the Phoenix airport (from Cleveland) first, and picked up the rental car - which turned out to be a rental SUV of amazing magnificence - they gave him an "upgrade" for no apparent reason - and fetched me, and then we headed off down I-10 looking for food. Now, usually I am the one who insists upon the Quality Adventure Food Experience - but in the dark without knowing the territory (and being 2 hrs ahead of local time and wanting not to stop for long), I was willing to settle. He, however, was up for adventure (yet, oddly, was against stopping at the Casino, which surely had a munifcient buffet!). He was sure we'd find a charming little taqueria. Off I-10. No, he's never been here before.
Yet find one we did! A sign for gas & food . . . we get off . . . the food too far after all . . . but, Look! In that tiny strip mall - Could that be a neon sign saying CARNE ASADA?
It could.
I don't think I have ever had such good ancho salsa. Homemade, I'm pretty sure. I took some with me, in a little styrofoam cup.
Then we drove on down the road, blasting Bluegrass on the SUV's Sirius channel til we got here.
And I am signing off now, because the sun is sinking over the Catalinas or something, and we have to go get food. Again. So I'll have to explain my header in my next post.
I am on a writing retreat with my brother Phil, at Endicott West. Last night he got into the Phoenix airport (from Cleveland) first, and picked up the rental car - which turned out to be a rental SUV of amazing magnificence - they gave him an "upgrade" for no apparent reason - and fetched me, and then we headed off down I-10 looking for food. Now, usually I am the one who insists upon the Quality Adventure Food Experience - but in the dark without knowing the territory (and being 2 hrs ahead of local time and wanting not to stop for long), I was willing to settle. He, however, was up for adventure (yet, oddly, was against stopping at the Casino, which surely had a munifcient buffet!). He was sure we'd find a charming little taqueria. Off I-10. No, he's never been here before.
Yet find one we did! A sign for gas & food . . . we get off . . . the food too far after all . . . but, Look! In that tiny strip mall - Could that be a neon sign saying CARNE ASADA?
It could.
I don't think I have ever had such good ancho salsa. Homemade, I'm pretty sure. I took some with me, in a little styrofoam cup.
Then we drove on down the road, blasting Bluegrass on the SUV's Sirius channel til we got here.
And I am signing off now, because the sun is sinking over the Catalinas or something, and we have to go get food. Again. So I'll have to explain my header in my next post.