Sorry I've been so quiet this week. It's been a right busy one. We had a funeral at church on Thursday (I played the organ). We also had a wedding on Saturday, plus the rehearsal on Friday (I played the organ). And we had regular worship today (I played the organ at both services). So I haven't been oozing free time at all.
Today after church I had a small adventure. I went to Lily's and had goat for lunch. It tasted more or less like roast beef, very tender and juicy, and served with a really bright-red pepper sauce on the side. Plus onions, greens, a good quarter of a lime, more beans and rice than I could finish, and 3 tortillas (choice of flour or corn). For $8.99 it wasn't a bad deal; more food than I could pack away, anyway. And the "home cooked" touch is always very nice, right down to being served by Mom, Pop, and the kids.
Sometime last week - perhaps Tuesday - I tried a different Mexican place, Espino's in Chesterfield, across the Chesterfield Airport Road from the big movie theatre. I tried their pollo con mole, which does not mean "chicken with blind thing that digs in your garden," but rather, "chicken with mole sauce," and the word mole has two syllables. That is to say, half a roast chicken smothered in a rich, dark sauce that combines a peppery zing with a touch of chocolate. I didn't know there was such a thing until I lived close enough to Mexico to stop there for lunch, but then I became overwhelmingly conscious of it. Nowadays, St. Louis-land, it is a rare treat to see this dish on a restaurant menu.
When I ordered the mole, the waitress asked me if I was sure and suggested that I test a spoonful of the sauce before making up my mind, because it wasn't everybody's cup of hot chocolate. I told her to skip the taste-test and just bring the dish, I would take my chances; she gave me the "on your head be it" act. Later, when I was greedily eating a most enjoyable mole chicken - in fact, the most enjoyable one I've had since I moved out of lunch-rush range of Mexico - I told the waitress she should have a little more faith in her kitchen, and be more positive about the menu she represents.
Of course, in retrospect, I might simply have looked "too white" to know what mole is, and the waitress may have just been protecting me. Still, I believe a waitress can strongly influence how much you enjoy your meal, simply by telling you that you're really going to enjoy whatever you ordered...or, in a negative way, by suggesting that you may not like it. I wonder if waitresses realize how much influence they have over people!