Having become slightly fed-up with a-lot of things as of late, the STM 'Bargain Bites' section will come under review in this particular post.
The Soaring Nacho
Shop 16, Honest Avenue, Blue Collarville.
As is common practice on a sunday morning, my drinking partner and I decided that it was time to try something a little left of field, a little place wreaking of cuteness, but at the same time honest and full of peasants. I suggested our usual trendy little wine bar but Trish had something different in mind, The Soaring Nacho.
Sleek and Zing.
Located on the otherwise bogan-esque strip of Honest Avenue, The Soaring Nacho is a spicy little gem hidden inside the otherwise bland, working class mecca that is Blue Collarville. Trish entered first and as i followed, the aromas of Mexico attacked my hangover with all sorts of funky ammunition. Colourful blankets slithered up and down the cinderblock walls, unsupervised children ran carefree between the tables and we were suddenly greeted by Miguel, a hearty little servant whose body scent had me watering at the mouth. Trish was excited. I was hungry.
As we were shown to our tables, Miguel was all too happy to read the specials to us as we perused through the menus. I kindly asked him to be quiet as his constant banter was only convincing my hangover to pay another weeks rent inside the trashed penthouse loft that was my head. Trish decided to go with the huevos rancheros, which was not only a little silly in it's approach, but also really hard to pronounce! Where's the Australian alternatives? When Miguel returned to take our orders, Trish stumbled through her pronunciation as expected and i just pointed to the papas con chorizo to save myself the task of pronouncing it! On a side note though, you have to try the Spicy Coffee, apparently the Mexicans are crazy about this stuff! It was all very adorable to Trish.
El Grande Poopesto!
After some playful banter over our abstract coffees and Trish's clever comparison between the interior and a house she visited in the slums of Venezuela, Miguel brought out what looked like our food. After some serious contemplation of where to start, Trish the ever braveheart decided to dig in. I watched her expression change from confusion to outright excitement and then back to confusion again. Not one to let a plate of papas con chorizo go cold, i decided to dig into mine as well. Spicy, yet tangy, with a hint of zing and funk, i was extremely surprised at how efficient these little mexicans were at rustling up some good grub. Not even the low-brow conversations going on either side of us could stop the journey Trish and I had embarked on. Chunky hashbrowns played the backdrop to the Verde explosions whilst refreshing sips of my spicy coffee mellowed out the zing factor for an adventure that i wouldn't be forgetting for a long time. Trish and I looked at eachother and decided that those crazy blanket-making bastards had done it again.
Requiem for a Taco.
Although slightly dissapointed with the lack of sombreros and mexican chic, Trish and I made a pact to visit Miguel and his cute little restaurant once a week. The food was hearty and honest, the service was a cut above (except for our initial greeting by an overzealous Miguel) and Trish told me she felt a little more Mexican after the whole ordeal. Now we just have to wait for it to come out the other end!