Mexican Quickies – Spanglish

In a land where the pace is slow, where church bells ring over the call of the loud speakers in the streets, where the sweet is balanced by salt around the rim, there is a mariachi rhythm that beats below the surface.  Life is a party.

Mexico is a jumping off place for me, in and out and constantly on the move, it is also a place where I ‘discover’ I’m hungry.  It creeps up on me, and… BAM… I’m starved!  Three minutes ago it was just fine but now I need food, fast.  This section on “Mexican Quickies” is a tribute to all the wonderful little places in the Yucatan that fed me… fast and cheap.  

“I no hablan español” my Spanish is very bad.  No, correction, my Spanish is next to non-existent. I  have a tourist’s grasp of key words and phrases; salutations, bathroom directions, asking for the cheque and the change.  But beyond that, I’m lost.  On occasion this makes things interesting for those around me when I boldly attempt to communicate, in my very best accent.

Coached well by my friend Texas, who’s lived in Mexico for two years, I attempt to order my own burger – without fries – instead I ordered a burger… without a father.

“I’ll have the bastard burger… and a Fresca.”

Laughter.

MORE laughter.

Laughter from the kitchen as the order is passed on.

“Whaaaaat?!”

Well, it may have been illegitimate but it was pretty darn tasty, fast and cheap… $45 pesos.  A tribute to the menu, one page of food four pages of drinks.  Hmmm… I wonder what they do best?   In a burger mood.  Grilled, fresh, cheesy, with whatever goop you wish- mustard vs. no mustard – the debate rages on.  In the Colonia of Puerto Morelos, Mexico at the junction of Highway 307 and Jose Mara Morelos Blvd, near the AVO station, Les Michealadas makes a dam decent cheese burger.

Whether or not this misbegotten beef was is recognised by family, none of my concern.  I love a good bastard burger.