Day 2: Three Amigos Mexican Grill and Cantina

If you’ve never heard that enchiladas are the best resaca food, it’s because they’re not. Not even close. Still, I chose to power through a visit to Three Amigos (formerly La Casa de las Enchiladas) because of its proximity to my own casa and the recommendation of foodie and soccer enthusiast, Tom, who I can credit for introducing me to the bourgeois delights known as caperberries.

Three Amigos is located on the left side of Central Ave out towards Eastway, just past my go-to, Taqueria La Unica. The skinny on Three Amigos is that if it’s called “enchilada” they can serve it to you. This is particularly impressive, considering how greatly what constitutes an enchilada varies between Mexico and, say, Costa Rica. So, after I plopped myself down on a stool at the small bar, it took thankfully little brain activity for me to determine that what I needed was a big glass of water and the Enchiladas Mixtas, a sample of four house favorites. Before my meal arrived I snacked on over-seasoned tortilla chips and mild-but-fresh salsa, while coming to the conclusion that I was not moving one inch until the conclusion of the USA v. England game which had yet to start. Of course the enchiladas were awesome, though of the Entomatadas, Poblanas, Verdes, and Jalisciences, I’d give the edge to the Poblanas due to a killer mole sauce. And, while the Entomatadas and Verdes seemed to these taste buds as nothing more that your typical (and typically awesome) red and green sauce enchiladas, Jalisciences get their name from the Jalisco region of Mexico and feature a slightly tangier, tomato-based salsa. The plate was covered by a thin steak which I initially found incredibly flavorful but later realized was just incredibly salty.

As for the game, what can I say? Like Alexi Lalas noted, Green shouldn’t have missed the ball, and they’re better than America, but England still didn’t look that good. And I’m certainly glad I stayed where I was instead of heading to another bar where I would have inevitablly watched the game with people like me who make a rather forced effort to exaggerate their interest in soccer at peculiar four-year intervals. At Amigos, I chilled with the waitstaff, sipped 7 oz. Coronitas, and laughed with them at the part of the Nike commercial when Homer Simpson goes, “Ronal-DOH!”