Word: mexicans
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...menu is American in the main, freshened up by Italian and Mexican accents and one or two playfully errant Oriental items (Vietnamese spring rolls, Thai crispy noodles). We start with sesame-crusted scallops with “My Favorite Stir Fry Green Beans” ($12), a rather pointless dish, ineptly executed. The scallops are parched and petrified by over-zealous heat, and the beans make a dubious accompaniment, sitting forlornly in a thin gingery broth. The other starter, however, is sensibly composed—the slick fatty warmth of grilled duck sausage and bruschetta slathered with...
...cultural misadventure ($23). The grilled swordfish is crumbly and again drained of moisture, with a peripheral dollop of mysterious root vegetable looking sheepish and impertinent. It comes with crab-stuffed flautas (crispy rolled tortillas) whose flavor is completely dominated by the pastry. I must confess a personal aversion to Mexican food (oh the traumas of refried—and refried again—beans, mulchy salsas and guacamoles), and this only confirmed my prejudice...
...await our food, Patricio chats up several of the employees of Real Taco. I follow him over. Despite six-plus years of Spanish instruction, I am utterly lost. Patricio later informs me they talked about owner Joel Espinoza’s Mexican heritage— he’s from Sinaloa, an area famous for the vacation spot Mazatlán. It is also established that the owner is a “nice guy.” Back at the table, Patricio comments on the high incidence of cute girls behind the counter. I cannot disagree...
...order my second meal of the night, Patricio finally gets his quesadillas. He is impressed, telling me that “it is unlikely you’ll find anything like this north of the border.” I think he is talking about the Mexican border, but I am not sure. Patricio continues to rave about the quesadillas, praising the quality of the pork meat in particular. It is no small wonder, he tells me, that the owner, the chef and the exquisite counter-girls all recommend quesadillas above everything else on the menu...
...didn’t necessarily think of ourselves as Mexican-Americans or Mexicans before we came to Harvard,” she says. “But when you get here, that’s what...