Dinner at Don Pisto’s

It has come to my attention that many, if not most, of my posts begin with something like “The other day, the Boyfriend and I” did this, that, and the other.  To save people from this repetitive linguistic eyesore, I will from now on substitute “the Boyfriend and I” with “we,” which is less clunky and annoying and makes me sound less like the codependent automaton who has no life outside of blogging and her boyfriend than I actually am.  So from now on, “we” denotes me and the Boyfriend, unless otherwise specified.  Cool.

That said, “we” had dinner at Don Pisto’s for Cinco de Mayo last week, and their stuff was damn good.  And I don’t even like Mexican food or Mexicans.  Or care about their holiday.  Anyway, I think the reason I like Don Pisto’s is that their food may not be authentically Mexican, which makes me equivalent to white people who think they like Chinese food but only go to restaurants that serve food no real Chinese person would eat.  On the other hand, it could be that most Mexican food I’ve eaten is Americanized and Don Pisto’s is the only place I’ve tried that does serve authentic Mexican food, which would make me an accidental Mexican food connoisseur.  Yeah.  I’m going to go with that one.

We started the meal with margaritas and sangria.  Since Don Pisto’s doesn’t have a liquor license, they make their margaritas with a chardonnay liqueur instead of tequila, which is fine with me.  The Boyfriend thought it was too sweet and preferred the less-sweet sangria.  Our first appetizer was the Mexican Sashimi, a lineup of seven tuna slices covered in cilantro, lime, Spanish onions, and very thin jalapenos slivers–a tasty combination that suited the freshness of the tuna.  Next, we ordered six oysters on the half shell drizzled in lime juice because we love our oysters and knew they would taste good.  For my entree, I had the Hamburguesa, basically a hamburger made with a fluffy, smokey patty with bacon and onion undertones, all covered in guacamole.  I enjoyed it but not to the extent that the Boyfriend did.  For his entree, the Boyfriend ordered the Manchaca Beef (braised kobe beef) With Eggs, and let me tell you, it was amazing.  I don’t know how to describe it other than in pseudo-sexual language.  You know how, once in a long while, you eat something so delicious that it hits that happy spot in the pit of your stomach that releases ungodly amounts of dopamine and puts you on cloud nine for the rest of the night, and when you wake up the next day, all you want is more of it because you want to hit that spot again?  Yes?  No?  Maybe?  Ok, well, that’s how good it was for me.  I don’t know what they did with that beef, but I hope they keep it up.  And for future reference, braised beef and fried eggs are an awesome combination in any type of cuisine.

About awesomebitch

Intolerant, elitist, and awesome.
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