I've had many adventures, including a trek across Siberia with a band of avenging koala bears in search of a Kung Fu warrior who had killed their dear brother, a deep sea diving expedition in the Indian Ocean in search of Popeye's seasoning which was reputed to have been lost at sea, a duel with a master of the Spanish broad sword, etc. etc., but sometimes the greatest adventure is a great Mexican meal in a cozy restaurant in Long Island City, Queens with friends.
It was a cold December evening, and we could see the Empire State Building across the river, it was lit up yellow and blue. We entered Casa Enrique which was filled with locals and buzzing. One friend had promised Casa Enrique was a great Mexican sauce house. I will get right to the point: it is. My friends and I feasted on excellent tortilla chips and guacamole, poblano peppers stewed in cream, chorizo and beans, and several types of tacos. A trio of sauces were brought. Every dish was excellent and could have been eaten plain, but the sauces were a spasm-inducing addition. The flavors! We moaned in ecstasy as we ate, slathering sauces onto our tacos and faces. I convulsed in utter pleasure.
At one point a manager came to our table. "Sir, I need to ask you to stop drizzling sauce all over your face, and please stop moaning, the other customers are disturbed." "Senior!" I retorted, "I will do no such thing! Now, my friends and I have finished the first part of our meal. We're ready for our entrees. And bring more sauce, god damn it!"
Yes, my friends, it's true, all of the dishes I listed prior were simply our appetizers. The main dishes arrived, and I was afraid they would not live up to the pleasures of the antecedents, but my fears were misplaced. Rich pork ribs in a vibrant chile sauce, tender and flavorful carne asada, lamb shank, all with luscious rice and beans. At one point I started splashing sauces everywhere I was so happy. The moans were impossible to control.
Finally, for dessert, I consumed a luscious tres leche cake with caramel sauce. It was indeed the best tres leche I've yet encountered on my travels.
On the way out I approached the manager. "This meal was intoxicating, but if you try to restrict my pleasure again, you will suffer a fate worse than Patrick the koala bear!" He looked at me with a quizzical look. "That's right! Ha-ha-ha!" I then accidentally walked into the door and banged my nose very hard. "Christ!" I screamed. Everyone in the restaurant was staring at me. "You haven't heard the last of Pepper Bastard" I said and out the door I went.
Until next time, these have been the continuing adventures of Pepper Bastard.