“I’m hungry.”
“Me, too.”
“Let’s try Mexican food!”
Neither of us had ever eaten Mexican food, ever.
We were in Marathon, Texas, on our way down into Big Bend, and from the looks of the map, this was going to be our last chance at ‘civilization’ for awhile.
“There’s a place!” I said excitedly.
The white painted cinder block, one story building was covered in words we didn’t understand, but we guessed it was advertising the specialties being offered inside.
Tamales we understood. Restaurant we understood.
“Jalopy-nose,” I said. “I want to try that!”
I pronounced it ‘jalopy’, like the old car, and ‘nose’, like the on your face breathing thingey. With a “J” sound, too. Yes, I did.
The restaurant was a medium sized room, with about six oilclothed tables pushed up against the walls, and a few more tables in the center of the room. No one was there. We could hear someone in the kitchen. The floor fan blew warm air around, and with it, enticing smells. We sat down at one of the tables against the wall.
“Howdy,” came a voice from a handsome young man who had emerged from the kitchen, wearing a full length apron, carrying an order pad, pencil at the ready. “What can I get ya?” he asked.
“We have never had Mexican food before. What do you recommend?” Mike asked.
Now, that sort of inquiry would seem inconsequential in a Manhattan restaurant, but we weren’t there. We were in a restaurant where you should already be familiar with what was on the menu. Very familiar.
The handsome young man looked surprised for a moment.
“The carne asada is good.” he said, glancing back at the kitchen.
Of course we asked what that was.
He must have thought that he had encountered gringo and gringa deluxe! He continued to politely and patiently help us make menu choices.
“I want to have an order of Jalopy-nose.” I said. Yes, I did.
“Ohhhh. Jalapenos.” the young man said, after a moment of contemplation.
” Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I would like Jalopenos.” I insisted, emboldened by my foray into Mexican culinary adventure.
“OK…,” he said. At some point his polite and patient demeanor had to have taken on a devilish delight.
He disappeared into the kitchen.
Our food arrived quickly. We were the only ones in the place, but it arrived quickly nonetheless. Heaping plates of steaming beans and rice and meat were set in front of us. It smelled heavenly!
“Which is the Jalopenos?” I asked.
He pointed to a small bowl of six, grey green, juicy, fruits at my elbow. “That’s not a very big order,” I thought to myself.
“They are HOT.” he said. I felt the dish gingerly. It was cold. “Spicy,” he said, and returned quietly to the kitchen, where we heard him being busy.
We were hungry! We tried the meat and beans and rice, and tortillas from the basket.
I took one of the jalapenos in my fingers, and bit it in half. I chewed. I choked. I gasped. I choked. I drank water. I coughed. I drank more water. My eyes watered. I tried very hard not to make too much noise in the empty restaurant. That only made it worse.
It took quite a bit to regain my composure.
I decided for the moment that I didn’t think that I liked my choice of jalapenos, but I had insisted. There was no way I was going to leave that order there, uneaten, for that handsome young man to see.
We ate just about all the food, except for the five and a half peppers, and then…”Could we get a box for the rest of this, to go?” Mike asked. I looked at him with my very watery eyes, and wanted to kiss him with my spicy hot lips!
The young man brought the box, and asked, “Where are you folks headed from here?”
“We are going down into Big Bend.” said Mike.
“Very nice down there.” said the nice young man.
We paid the check, left a nice tip, and walked out to the van with our ‘to-go’ box.
It took a while to drive into Big Bend. The handsome young man was right. It was very nice down here. We made it to the Basin camp area, and sat on the bumper of the van.
We had decided that the motorcycle would be safe here, out of the van tonight, and Mike rolled it out onto the dirt. We crawled into the back of the van, and into the sleeping bag, and settled into one another for a nice sleep.
Within no time, the Mexican food began to work its unique methane magic, the potent combination of beans and jalopy-nose! We burst forth from the sleeping bag first, unable to lovingly tolerate the other. Then we burst forth from the van altogether.
I spent another night under the big Texas starry sky, again with watery eyes.
