Biking around town, wondering what was for dinner, I happened across a stall that was positively hopping. So I asked the waitress what everyone was having and she said chicken soup.
I didn't feel particularly inspired so I got a rundown of the rest of the menu and said I'd think about it.
And think about it I did. Mexican chicken soup, of course, is nothing like Canadian chicken soup. It is redolent of lime and cilantro and humming with a bite of salsa picante, if that's your thing. (It is mine.)
So after some more biking I wound up circling back and ordering myself a nice bowl of soup.
It was a bit odd that the waitress asked if I only wanted one, but maybe I looked especially ravenous. (I was.)
But when my meal came and it looked more like a soft, thick tortilla with crimped edges, laden with chicken and pickled onions and crema and lettuce, I was taken aback. (See photo 1.) "What's this?" I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew.
I had meant to order a sopa de pollo, but I must have mistakenly said sope de pollo. Never mind. Any port in a storm.
Course, I was still hungry after finishing my solitary sope, so I added an empanada de pollo to my order. Which meant I was dumbfounded when a completely different dish showed up. (See photo 2.) "What the heck is this?" I asked the waitress. "The soup," she smiled. "Just so you can taste it."
Goddamned Mexico. It gets you every time.
1 comment:
That seafood soup looks very lively. Carp
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