By Eudie Pak
Zocalo’s guacamole sampler
(Photo by: Matt Verzola)
In celebration of Cinco de Mayo, we sacrificed our J. Lo’s just for you. After three nights of gorging ourselves silly on salty glasses, mushy green stuff, and corn chips, we got the low down on where to and where not to go for Mexican munchies in town.
Our ratings are scientifically geared and have been tested by Speedy Gonzales and the Rats of NIMH to help you truly understand if our taste buds tingled or turned in mutiny.
Here is our ratings meter:
She-Ra: They don’t call her the Queen of the Universe for nothing. Outta this world!
Strawberry Shortcake: Sweet and comforting, just like mama’s home cookin’. Yummy.
Inspector Gadget: If at first you don’t succeed, try again, Gadget, try. Bumbling.
Gargamel: Mwa ha ha. The evil cackles emanate from everywhere, even your plate. Don’t bother.
375 Third Ave.
SCENE: Red rope lights and wooden beams in a Tex-Mex chain restaurant wannabe with loud music and drunken cowboy yuppies.
JW: (taking a bite of a cold tortilla chip) Jar salsa. Zero chunk-age.
EP: (frowny face)
JW: (tries the guacamole) Sooo much salt. Water! Water!
EP: I (heart) Whole Foods guac mo’ better.
JW: This stuff tastes like ‘Sponge Bob goes to Mexico.’
(Waitress brings drinks and scurries away)
JW: (shrieking with horror) Where’s the margarita glass?! Where’s the salt?!
EP: (takes a sip) I can make a better one with my Snoopy Sno-cone machine.
JW: The waitress didn’t smile once…and man, this tastes like a Slurpie!
EP: (squinting her eyes at the waitress) She is afraid–vewee afwaid.
JW: If I wanted service like this, I coulda stayed in Jersey!
Los Dos Molinos
119 East 18th St.
SCENE: Dimly-lit rustic venue with a Southwestern American feel.
(JW and EP catch sight of the muy caliente manager–Â¡hola!)
JW: (munching spastically on the chips and salsa)
EP: (takes a heaping scoop of red salsa…high-pitched screaming)…
JW: The green one’s milder…kekeke.
EP: (takes a heaping scoop of green salsa…high-pitched screaming resumes)…
(guacamole and margaritas come out)
EP: (takes a heaping scoop of guacamole)…(finally smiles out of relief)
JW: Dude, this is what you call classico. Very creamy with a kick at the end.
EP: (busy pummeling her face with the guac)
JW: (sipping her Kick Ass Margarita) 100% yum. Who knew an ass-whoopin’ tasted so good?!
EP: (chugs her Prickly Pear Margarita; then, as she admiringly looks at it, finally speaks) Me love you long time.
Rating: Strawberry Shortcake!
174 East 82nd St.
(other location: Grand Central Terminal)
SCENE: Warmly-lit semi-romantic passage into Mexican heaven.
(Manager generously greets JW and EP and leads them to Cutie Pa-tutie waiter who redefines good service.)
JW: (crunching on sampler guacamole platter) They all have such sensual and complex flavors, satisfying your tongue’s every desire.
EP: (mouth full of chipotle-laced guac) Tastes orgasmic.
JW: I dunno what you do with your guacamole…
EP: Mwee hee hee! (wink)
JW: (takes a swig of The Patsy Margarita) I love Patron…(blissful grin)
EP: (drinks her Frida Margarita) Refreshing. I wonder how many calories this thang has.
JW: (rolls her eyes) Hush up, and drink up.
EP: I wonder if they’re all this good…
(two drinks later…)
JW and EP: (cheek-to-cheek) Â¡Claro que si!