Tex-Mex in DC?

Up until a few years ago, I was quite enraptured with the Tex-Mex scene in the DC metro area. Then one day, this guy from California came to work at my job and slowly but surely made me re-think what constitutes good Tex-Mex (or just plain Mexican) food. He worked in the closet office next to mine and would talk all day, sometimes spewing radical political comments that made me nervous. But a recurring element of our conversations were about the quality of Tex-Mex. One day, he made the bold statement: There is no good Tex-Mex in this area. Coming from California, he would glow when recounting the bounty of options he had back home. I would counter that, citing Lauriol Plaza or Cactus Cantina. I would defend Guapo's and Rio Grande. I would talk about Rosa Mexicano. Even the burrito man in the vendor cart outside of our building was impressive to me. Still is. But some of the other places I have listed? Not as impressed as I used to be. His subtle attempts to waver my allegiances worked somewhat.

I still tend to pick a place based on the salsa and chips. Very important. The thinner and crispier the chips, the better. And, they must arrive to the table warm. Salsa I am not as picky about, but can recall some awful experiences at places like Chevy's. Guapo's salsa is chunkier, and tastes extremely fresh. Most of the other places blend their salsa into a smooth, easily scoop-able consistency. Another critical item to me is the tortilla. Some places bring freshly baked tortillas to the table for free. The best, in my humble opinion, are the flour ones. Rosa Mexicano's barely pliable, small and flat tortillas would make better coasters than food wrappers. Maybe it's because they use corn instead of flour? Maybe because it seems more gourmet? Not sure, but no thanks. Aside from that, they do have some unique, albeit overpriced, tasty items on their menu. It also seems that the guacamole scene has exploded in recent years. Back in the day, guacamole was just a side condiment to a main entree, and sometimes it didn't make an appearance at all. Now, most places have the added flair of making guacamole table side as an appetizer. Love it.

When I was middle-school aged, my family and I would head to Rio Grande a lot. The home-made tortillas, pillowy and soft, that came fresh out of the oven were addictive. The sights of steam and the sound of sizzling hot metal plates made my mouth water in anticipation of the arriving tray of food. One of the first few times we were there, my dad was in the process of finishing his meal when he took the big hot pepper garnish, thinking it was part of his meal, and bit off everything but the stem, chewed quickly and swallowed. I thought he was going to die. I've never seen someone sweat so much and breathe with such pain and panic. He downed glass of water after glass of water (which we now know only makes it worse) to no avail. The waiters came over, maybe even the manager--some of it was a blur--to come to his aid. I forget how long it took for his red face to regain normal flesh tones, but it seemed like an eternity. If only they had brought him a glass of milk and some bread to neutralize the pepper's heat. If only he had recognized danger before wolfing it down whole.

As Cinco de Mayo approaches, I've started thinking of where to celebrate. I want to try something new. I need to find a new go-to place. My friend Sheri raves about a place called Coyote Grill out in Fairfax. I will have to give that a try. Or maybe I just need to find a new menu item. When I don't pick enchiladas, I choose to fill up on Mexican rice, free flour tortillas and chips/salsa. The majority of the times I have been out for this type of food, I'm underwhelmed by the lack of flavor depth. Bland, bland, go away, come again another day. I want a big, juicy burrito, smothered in cheese, stuffed with a marriage of flavors and textures. I'd like to taste an enchilada with similar attributes.

I guess I shouldn't be so quick to judge the Tex-Mex options in this area. I do have to say, though, that Austin Grill is on my never-again list and Mi Rancho is dangerously close to a good nixing. I need to restore my faith in what used to be my favorite food genre. My love for the margarita has also been spurned. The frozen kind give me freeze headaches and the marg on the rocks seem too syrupy and overwhelmed by an artificial sour mix. Tia Queta in Bethesda does have a decent margarita (and they make theirs extra strong). Not to mention, aside from their abysmal chips and salsa, their chicken mole is fantastic.

I'm officially on the hunt. Time to bring back some love for DC's Tex-Mex food and margaritas. I hope to have some good news soon. But until then, here's my list of acceptable places in ranked order:

Lauriol Plaza
Oyamel
Cactus Cantina
Guapo's
Tortilla Coast

Blown Away

I flew to Chicago on Thursday afternoon to visit my foodie-in-crime Christine for a long weekend. To mirror the pace of all of my past visits there over the years, we had a plan in place to eat our way through what turned out to be a blustery, very windy city this time around. Thinking we would go for a quick run around Wrigleyville and the lake when I arrived, I was easily swayed to head downtown to take advantage of the beautiful weather. The rest of my time there was slated to be grey and cold. As our bus pulled onto Michigan Ave, I was greeted by a crush of elegant tulips along the sidewalks and in planters. My all-time favorite flower! They looked good enough to eat. Crisp long stems, juicily-colorful blooms in an spray of magnificent colors. Perfection. Farther down Michigan Ave surrounding the old water purification plant (or maybe it was a water pump) were packs and packs of white tulips. I was in heaven. Christine and I continued meandering around that area, grabbed some free chocolate from Ghirardelli and then made a visit to clothing store Zara. Described to me as a more upscale version of H&M with Banana Republic prices, I expected similar apparel. I guess I am way behind the fashion times because most of the stuff in there would never grace the inside of my closet. And, I'm OK with that. Leather shorts with a brown-bag cinch wasteline? Terrible idea. I can imagine the challenges that piece of clothing would present amidst the humidity of DC summers. Brings back memories of that Friends episode where Ross was having difficulty getting his leather pants back on after a bathroom visit. Baby powder and lotion everywhere. *shudder*

But that wasn't the worst of it.

After deciding to check out what goodies Zara had in store for us upstairs, we met the epitome of hideous. Like a slap across the face, there it was. An unsightly mannequin donned a flimsy cotton onesie with a horrific flower pattern. An unfortunate shoulder bag and ill-fitting denim shirt tied at the waist completed the look. We need to take a picture of this, I thought. Then Christine suggested we try to find the outfit on the racks instead. And, that we did. We found her an equally-offensive tube-top onesie in what can only be described as a dog-vomit tan color paired with another questionable flower pattern. Fending off the judgmental stares of fellow shoppers, we took the outfits into the changing rooms. It took me a good five minutes to navigate my piece. There was only one way in and one way out, a lot of ties near the top, elastic cinching at the waist and the pant cuffs. Hot. Success.
The evening was capped off by a four-hour viewing of the latest Twilight movie on DVD, New Moon. The movie only runs a hair over two hours, but it took an additional couple hours to get through the scene where Jacob is walking through the rain shirtless in little cut-off shorts. How can a guy that young be so perfectly cut?! After making it through that scene, we IMDB'd the actor, Taylor Lautner, to search for his birthday. Born in 1992. Wow. The 90s! Eleven years our junior. We're not just cougars....we're creepy cougars. And then we skipped back to the start of that sequence and watched the scene again.

The next day our fellow food lover Sheri arrived and we headed out to the Botanic Gardens. Tulips. Everywhere. I was drunk from the beauty of it all. We traversed the grounds and soaked it all in--Japanese gardens, English-walled gardens, a winding pond, elegant crab-apple trees in bloom--nature at it's peak. Then the pangs of hunger took over. It was time for our long-awaited menage a trough. We turned a dainty lunch of crackers and herbed goat cheese, fresh cut fruit, sensible vegetables, and hummus into a mini-gorgefest. Amidst the natural beauty of well-manicured, picturesque scapes, we shoveled it down with "grace." At one point, Christine was wiping hummus from Sheri's forehead while I rescued a piece of goat cheese from my lap. Once we met our fill of food and gardens, we ventured back to the city via the double-decker Metra train. The rest of the evening was filled with a stop in at the The Purple Pig for a quick happy hour followed by an amazing dinner at Devon Seafood.

Saturday began and ended with fog, bone-chilling winds and fat pants. We kicked off the day with a visit to Ann Sather for some of her succulent sticky buns and other brunch fare. Then we headed back to Christine's apartment where I took a nap in preparation for our afternoon chocolate tour. After checking Sheri into the W hotel (she was in town for work) we headed over to meet up with our tour group. It was a small group of seven led by an overly-energetic tour guide. An actress by day, her exaggerated enthusiasm and joyous facial contortions were very distracting. Then along came the champagne truffle from Teuscher's chocolates of Switzerland. Made with a Dom Perignon cream center, this silky bundle of love was surrounded by a dark chocolate ganache, coated in milk chocolate and sprinkled with confectionner's sugar. It had my undivided attention...until I saw the price tag. ShamWOW. A box of 16 was listed at $41. I'm not sure what would taste better...eating 41 dollars or spending $41 on a box of 16 truffles. Well, we had a long afternoon and evening ahead of us, so I decided not to try either. The remainder of the tour involved a trip to More Cupcakes, a tea place with chocolate-infused teas, and some Belgian place with delicious gelatos and other forms of chocolate. We then blew down to the south part of the city for an italian dinner at Gioco where I punished my stomach with some braised octopus. I had tried grilled octopus before, but this time around, I didn't so much enjoy the sensation of little suction cups on my tongue as I chewed on the tentacle. It was part of a spaghetti dish, so not straight octopus on a plate. But, still. My stomach ain't quite right yet.

But you know what is? My wallet. Aside from forgetting my over-burdened credit card at Devon Seafood on Friday, I did not spend one cent shopping this trip. A feat. Using Groupon's for our dinners helped out as well. I am quite satisfied with the April 2010 edition of the Chitown Eating Tour, aside from the fact that there weren't enough meals in a day to squeeze in some of the city's decadent pizza. But that void was filled by the beauty of Spring sprung throughout the city.

Until next time, Chicago. You owe me some deep dish.

Re-charged, Relieved

I got back yesterday from a relaxing and mostly sunshine-filled weekend in Melbourne, Florida visiting Julie. I had a blast! The beach was beautiful and calming, the food was great, and the company? Sublime. Julie's condo on the beach was awesome. It boasted a private beach fraught with pretty shells, sand dollars, and blueish-purple man of war jelly fish. And a dead pelican. And that fish from McDonald's Filet-O-Fish commercials. The fish had been washed ashore by the rising tide. Every time I looked at it, it's mouth popped open. I swear I heard a keyboard playing off in the distance. Julie and I tried a couple times to rescue it, and at last successfully got a grip on its slimy skin and tossed it back into the waves.

The next morning, we put together a slammin breakfast with this gigantic sweet red pepper and many breakfast meats, eggs and cheeses. Yummmm. Later, we checked out a restaurant located on the Indian River with the odd name of "Squid Lips." Other highlights from the trip included a visit to Cocoa Village on Saturday that was full of cute little boutique shops and restaurants. There we got a taste of flavored balsamic vinegar from an Olive and Vinegar shop and some gingerbread. In the afternoon, Julie and I made the most delicious red-wine sangria (look at all that fruit!) and nursed it out on the balcony overlooking the ocean amidst the breeze. At that point we spent a good amount of the time trying to figure out which kids belonged to which adults. Yes. Then we took a two-hour stroll along the beach collecting shells and enjoying more of the refreshing ocean breeze.

Fun weekend with a fun friend. It was also great to get away from DC and the woes of unemployment.

But, upon my return things started to fall in place quickly. What a great Monday! I don't think I've said that ever. I had an interview this morning for a five-month job in Chinatown at the American Hospital Association and also found out I have a phone interview with Legg Mason scheduled for Tuesday. My headhunter, who normally only works with direct hire for permanent positions, found the temp job from a client she had been working with already. The job is to fill in for a woman going on maternity leave at the end of May and involves event planning, steady pay that's better than my temp agency's gigs, and other perks. The management supplies fresh fruit to the staff every Tuesday and Thursday, free breakfast on Fridays (and casual dresscode--a perk I have never had at any of my jobs), and free access to a private gym that includes work out classes. The building is beautiful, great views, and houses a staff of about 80.

Well, I got the job! And I celebrated with some frugal work-clothes shopping and a skunky glass of Malbec at home. Good thing I love the taste of vinegar. I am almost 100 percent sure I will commit to the temp gig, which would start May 10, but we'll see what becomes of the other interview tomorrow. LM is in Baltimore, though, which is a deterring factor. While there is always the possibility I could be screwing myself out of a permanent job that comes along during the next five months, the market is still pretty sad, so not likely. And, this temp job could lead me to a permanent job as well. Either way, I am relieved and excited to be almost back on the working horse!

The Good Stuff

Being jobless has its perks. I don't have to set an alarm at night. I can enjoy the beautiful Spring weather. Hmmm...what else... Yep, that's about it. Most of the time it feels like I'm watching my wallet hemorrhage to death with no end in sight.

But, I have become more appreciative of the free things in life...the good stuff. Flowers in bloom. Napping with my dog. Peace and solitude. And, of course, relishing my not-so-free meals...moreso than ever. When I'm not temping, there's not much to distract me from my favorite pastime. I finish breakfast and seconds thereafter start longing for lunch, or in today's case, a mid-morning snack.

I don't live a particularly lavish lifestyle, but I know I should be cutting back right now. Like only eating out of cans and boxes instead of going out to lunch and dinner. Yet, my old coworker from Satan & Associates, Inc. told me I should be going out to lunch regularly to stay connected to the workforce and for networking purposes. Done.

Today I am headed out to Capitol Hill to meet with another old coworker from the job that laid me off in January 2009. Actually, he and I both were cut on the same day, and unfortunately for him, he has not worked a day since. We are going to Good Stuff Eatery and my stress level is already up a notch because I know decision time is near.

What to get? Definitely a shake. Burger-wise? No idea. Too many solid options. What I do know is that my trainer (and friend, Femi) would not be happy with any decision I make here, unless it was to walk out the door empty handed. The first day we started training, he told me he was going to work on strengthening my core muscles first. As I was telling him that I don't think I have abs anymore, he said, "Hilary, everyone's got a six pack. Some just keep theirs in the fridge."

Well, in my case, the abs are waaaaay back in the fridge. Back with the baking soda and food that has iced over. There's a lot of good stuff on me right now and I'm OK with adding some Good Stuff to my good stuff. Makes me feel good and stuff. You only live once, right? I'd rather die fat and happy than fit and happy. Wait, no. Maybe not.

Broke and Back on a Mountain

I haven't blogged now in over five months. Luckily, now I have five months of material to talk about. Or at least I hope I do.

Let's see where we left off. Ah, yes. I was preparing for an interview. Well, I did not get the job, and getting lost and winding up late for the interview could have been a contributing factor.

It was at a building in Rockville in an area with which I am very, VERY familiar. Not only was I miserably lost on the Pike, but the woman interviewing me had given me very specific instructions. And, to top that off, I had pulled into the correct parking lot the first time I arrived at my destination, but thought it looked fishy, so pulled out and kept driving. The problem was that the numbers on that side of the street (this is near the Rockville Metro station) did not appear correctly. I forget exactly what the deal was, but the building I was supposed to go to was angled and thus the number was not visible from the road, and the number was out of order. The building to the left was a higher number as was the building to the right. Talk about confusing. Needless to say, perhaps my interviewer decided that if I can't navigate Rockville Pike when I boasted about being a native meant there was something wrong with me. I agree that there's something wrong with me, but usually my sense of direction is unshakable.

The odd thing about that interview, and another I had been on a month or so earlier, was that I never heard anything back. No rejection, no nothing. I followed up a few times and got no response. Still, to this day, I sometimes check their Web sites to see if they hired anyone. Nope. Weird.

Since then, I have made several life-altering decisions that wound me back up in the same place I was in January 2009. Jobless. But, this time, I don't get unemployment pay. After 9 months in what I can only describe as an abusive and thankless relationship, I quit my job. With no notice. With no job lined up. Awesome. And, with my non-existent income, I now owe the IRS $700 big ones. Fantastic.

But, I am happy. You can't put a price on that. Add to that, I've regained my infinite appetite, and pulled out of my stress-induced-depression-coma. I am alive and I am free from my captors. The captors who used to pay me peanuts every two weeks in exchange for being belittled, cussed out in front of staff during meetings, threatened, screamed at for problems that were not my doing, blamed for things because of their extreme paranoia and senility, and more of the same.

And it was for two people I wished I had never met. A principal who makes the word "crazy" seem silly. A 60-year-old man who, despite cheating on his wife several times and being tied to the DC Madam scandal, had the audacity to proclaim to the office on their anniversary that the past 30 years had been nothing but (and I quote) "pure, unadulterated bliss." A man who wrote emails to senators, high profile clients and the like, riddled with typos and serious violations of the English language, such as "Happy New York" instead of "Happy New Year." A man who is an alcoholic and would frequently slip into blacked-out rages on phone calls. A man who made sexist remarks during conference calls while forgetting to mute the phone. A man who frequently used the word "p*ssy" to describe clients or people in front of the other female staffers. A man who always wore dress shirts two sizes too big, couldn't tie a tie to save his life (either the skinny part would be longer than the big part, or the skinny part would be tied on top of the big part, and always cocked to the side), had stains all over his outfit and two different colored, often untied shoe-laces. Since when was it OK to have bright yellow shoe laces on black dress shoes? Tip of the iceberg.

Oh, and then there was his wife. The woman who had been cheated on with reckless abandon. The woman, who turns 70 this year, and has already lost so much mental capacity that she should be in a home, but instead RUNS the firm as "president, ceo, coo, and cfo" as she would recount to us daily. Try having a discussion with the woman. The next day she will ask about something that had never been discussed and because of extreme paranoia would acuse and blame you for things that she had said the opposite of a mere day earlier. A losing battle. A woman, who on my third week of temping, bought me a $300 Coach purse to thank me for all of my help and tell me she wants me to take over and run the firm, but then months later pulled a 180 to tell me I was worthless. For. No. Apparent. Reason.

The three senior associates were dumbfounded. They regularly praised me for my work and kept telling me to "stick with it," and "hang in there." But all of which were too timid to ever speak up and defend me until it was too late. That's ok. I get it. People have families to support, mortgages to pay, and understand that reasoning with irrational, senile, and rage-ful people is risky. I just had to do it myself. But, I'll tell you, it was like waking up and dressing for battle EVERY day. I'd come in and sit at my desk IN THE HALLWAY and wait for that crazy animal to come in and start at me. I'd defend myself, sometimes raise my voice and get nowhere. You simply cannot argue with a crazy person.

The eve of the eve of my departure, I had been a staff meeting where the principal got up out of his seat to lean across the table and scream in my face with F-bombs and, F me about this and that all over something so insignificant. A Web site password. I had never been given the password, I had asked the network people to supply it several times and they hadn't gotten it to me yet. He was so aggressive. So out of line. Call me a wimp, but I had never been talked to like that before (well, other than the several other times that he had done so). At one point, another associate started telling him to calm down and stop. I was speechless. I defended myself briefly, but I could feel my face starting to burn and the tears piling up at the door to burst. But, instead, I bit my tongue. I don't know how I was able to sit through 20 more minutes in that room without crying out of my frustration and anger, but I did. I kept telling myself that I could make it two more days to Friday and never return. I had contemplated walking out of the meeting to make a statement and to just get the hell away, but logistically it would've been difficult. It was a tight space. I would've had to ask the girl next to me to stand up and move her chair as well as the two other people seated by the door. Talk about a not-so-dramatic departure.

The eve of my departure...I remember like it was yesterday. I was pulled into the conference room yet again for her to berate me for no reason, and I told her to stop attacking me. I said in my years of work, I have never experienced such unprofessionalism. I defended my work product and told her this was not working out. That's when she said she was going to move me into an office with her, twice daily monitor my tasks, have me listen for the phone to ring (one day, the phone rang and the receptionist didn't pick it up, so she yelled at me for not hearing it--mind you that was the first time in 9 months I hadn't heard it ring). I was done.

While I had been trying to leave this place for months and had been beyond miserable for months, that was when I had my moment of clarity. The End. I actually went home sick that day. Not because I didn't have the strength to deal with it anymore, but because I spiked over a 100 degree fever, had chills and massive stomach cramps. My normal temp is around 97 degrees, so I'd say I was not well. I packed up my work, told the senior partner at the firm I was sick, and went home. I couldn't rest yet, though. I had an hour call with a client and finished up more project work in the peace and safety of my home all the while shaking from my ailments. I heard later from my coworkers that when the crazy animal lady heard I went home sick that she was going to fire me because I was not allowed to go home sick. As she said it was an "unexcused" absence. That night, the senior partner called the principal, and another senior partner and told them what happened. One of the partners called and in her message apologized for how unprofessional the wife had been, praised me for my work, but then also said that having been with the firm for 20 years (she works remotely in Iowa--clearly the only reason she can tolerate working for these people) she wishes she could say that stuff like this won't happen again, but she said she can't. I appreciated her honesty and her concern for me. I also know that if I was making six figures like she and the other three associates, I could definitely tolerate working there for a bit longer.

When I had started temping at this place in June 2009, I refused a full-time job offer from them three times before I finally accepted thinking a paycheck and benefits would be nice. The writing was on the wall from the beginning. It just wasn't worth the compromise to my mental and physical health. That Friday, after having a lengthy conversation with one of the senior associates about my decision, I left a short and sweet resignation letter on the principals chair. I called my temp agency and lined up work to start on Monday and then walked out of the office for the last time. My fever vanished. My stomach cramps left. Amazing. I smiled and felt true happiness for the first time in ages.

I will never know what would've happened had I refused that job for the fourth time. For what it's worth, I tried something new. I did lobbying work for the first time and it wasn't half as bad. I learned a lot. I pushed my mind and strength to new limits.

And, now I am teetering on the edge of broke. Gazing up the mountain of endless bills and zero cash flow. It's a steep climb, but I know I can make it.