El Venado

So the police officer who convinced me not to cross the border tonight was gracious enough to recommend an authentic restaurant, this side of Mexico. After returning my pistol to me, he claimed to have a favorite spot. This is the only time his facial expression changed — from robotic to nostalgic.
The fluorescent lights and club music nearly scared off my partner in crime. Us being a minority (always a good sign) had me convincing him to stay.
I ordered two meals worth if food because the woman behind the register recommended both. I looked her in the eye and said, «Gimme those!», pointing to the day-​old display plate of food staged on the front counter.
Slow cooked pork stuff, chewy burrito-​like flour skin, the most amazing soup — the list goes on. I was crying and had the hiccups after tasting a roasted pepper. And then, I tried it again. It’s that good.