"He's talking to you man!"
I've been meaning to hit this place up for a while and only didn't go here for lunch on Tuesday because I didn't want to spend the rest of the year walking to work before Santa brought me a new fucking bike. So I cruised back over today, chained my bike to a lightpost and wandered in. This is the classic Santa Barbara Mexican market...it's mostly frequented by neighborhood Mexicans, most of the staff speak poor English and one gets the idea that gringos don't step inside that often. I wound my way through the aisles to the back corner of the place where the carniceria is with a small deli menu scrawled up high. The lady behind the counter gave me a look that I translated into Spanish as, "You take a wrong turn white boy?" and ignored me for a while. When she finally realized I wasn't going away she walked up and I said "Uno adobada burrito." She clarified "adobada?" for me with a raised eyebrow. "Si. Si." She rolled her eyes like I was ruining her day and went back to the kitchen to presumably tell the cook to clean up the feathers and put the chicken carcass down, you gotta cook something for this dipshit white guy that got lost on his way to Westmont.
Now I have to tell you, I've always felt comfortable in places where they want me to feel uncomfortable. I don't know why. Visits like this remind me of when me and Manny went into The Copacabana on Milpas many years ago. The Copa was a place where gringos weren't exactly invited and didn't hang out, for whatever reason. Probably the same reason that the patrons of the Copa didn't hang out at The Santa Barbara Brewing Company. Purely cultural. But we went in, ordered our beers, got leery eyes and blatant stare downs from the locals, but 20 minutes later we were shooting pool with a couple other locs and laughing it up getting hammered. So this visit to Mi Fiesta was perfect, and the burrito was pretty good as well. And she'll remember me next time. And one day she might even smile when she takes my order.