Mexican Food, Toledo

Ok, maybe this is a bit unfair given that I grew-up on some pretty damn tasty Mexican food in Southwest Detroit. That food was tough to beat by any standard, actually. 

But after trying all of the Mexican food in Toledo, I have to tell you, I'm really not liking any of it. 

I know what you're saying: "You should try this place, here, because they have good whatever, but that place doesn't." Nope. I don't think so. I've tried it all around Toledo. Believe me. I'VE TRIED IT ALL. 

There is sort of a regional thing about it.

When you are raised eating something your entire life, you come to rely on that food as normal, comfortable, "good." It's like your living room furniture; maybe you're not crazy about your scratched-up leather sofa or your worn-out recliner, but there it is, everyday, ready for you to take a load-off. It's normal. Comfortable. Good. 

So it is with food. If you grew-up with cilantro being used in the kitchen, though you didn't like it, one day you wouldn't bother picking it out of rice anymore or scraping it off of your plate. One day, when you were in your early twenties, you'd just give up fighting cilantro. You'd just eat it. It just became the norm. It just became expected. 

The same goes for menudo. My theory is no Latino (or anyone else on earth, for that matter) actually likes menudo for the mouthful of slimy chew that it is, they simply like that their tastebuds prompt them to recall happy times of when our predecessors prepared this dish and made us eat it. Fond memories. Maybe of mom. Maybe of Dad. Grandpa and grandma in the kitchen. And so, even with a squeeze of lime or a dash of oregano, that gamy, sticky, noxious taste of innards that is menudo just becomes another thing you get used to. Another taste of good times. Another comfort food. "Good." 

So maybe if you were raised in an area like Toledo, you're completely ok with sugary, bland, red sauce dripping from your enchiladas, or perhaps having your tamales covered in liquid cheese that is neither sharp nor flavorful, but equally as tasteless as the brittle cornmeal it smothers. After all, you're used to things a certain way. And after all the tasting I've done in Toledo, I realize I'm used to things a certain way; a way that Toledo's Mexican dining scene does not offer. "What's a botana?", a server might ask. Or "We don't serve our burritos 'chunky'." Or better still, "Steak Milenesa is on the menu, but we're out of it." 

"Every time I come-in?"

"Yes." 

So it's a regional thing. It's a that's-how-we-do-it-around-here thing. And that's fine. But can I still say do yourself a favor and don't waste time on Mexican restaurants in the 419? If someone says, "Hey, how bout Mexican food tonight!", then by all means, go, but hop in the driver's seat and head for Detroit.