Heroin fajitas

Oh my. I never eat fajitas out in public, not because of some shame, or the fact that I eat like a starving pig, not I never order fajitas anymore because I make the worlds best fajitas and any other is just a waste of time, and chicken.

In honor of Cinco de Mayo tonight, my date and I went to a new Mexican restaurant. It is a tiny little place, with boring walls and fat waiters. I was thrilled. So many American restaurants try to lure you in with bad food but hotties working as waiters and bus people. I know the trick, after all, I owned a restaurant at one time, serving terrible food delivered by some of the sexiest hippies in Seattle.

So, we actually had to wait in line to get a seat, almost always a good sign, especially with a new restaurant. The service was adequate and my young date and I decided to share an order of chicken fajitas. Service fine, drinks fine, margaritas, sans alcohol, not ordered.

Chicken fajitas? Best on the east coast. My lord, they were so good I want to go back right now and order more. And I am stuffed. Granted, this was not a giant corporate whore restaurant, but a local whore restaurant, with unhealthy staff and not a hotty to be seen, either on staff or in the restaurant.

The food? Remarkable. Simple, good and fun to eat.

Ahh, but there is a catch, as there often is. These had to be the famous heroin fajitas. Great the first time, but my date and I agreed, things would never be this good again. Like so many things in life, first dates, home made ice cream, the birth of your first 3 children, you always want to return to that first one, because none of the next ones will be anywhere near as good.

My sense, the heroin fajitas will fall into that category. We will return, we have to, we are jonsing for more, we need more, we want more and more and more. I am sure, next time, it will be a fluke we will say, they were so good last time, but this time, dry and boring. We will go again after that and again and again. Never will we ever receive the best fajitas on the east coast, but we are hooked, strung out on the the expectation. I need more fajitas. I need more now.

Oh, I could post a link to this new restaurant, and I could also post a link to a couple of my former drug dealers who did the same bait and switch, strung me out on the good stuff for years, taking a fortune, always with the promise, this is the good stuff, and it never was. Oh fajita dealer, I know you tricks and yet, I am too weak to go back to making my own. Damn you fajitas and all those tortillas that make you so, ever so, sexy.