Favorite Food Essay

â€Å"so exactly where are we going again?† I asked my dad while pulling out of our driveway. â€Å"Just wait I know you’ll love this restaurant,† he announced. He was taking me to Espinoza’s, an authentic Mexican restaurant. There was a large window right beside the door when you pull in, with a big, orange, neon sign with the words ESPINOZA’S written in capital letters. My dad opened the door and I led him in. Right when we walked, there was a young girl, about five feet and 3 inches tall, who asked us in an accent if it was just the two of us today. Behind her about eight meters away, was a bar like counter that was higher than normal, for when the chef prepared your meal, he could place it there to be brought to the table. We sat down at our table right beside the big window with the neon sign, a table for four. Two glasses of water were brought to us, by Maria, our waitress, who all the while made suggestions on their selection of other drinks. There was a glass fridge, like the ones at gas stations, directly behind where dad was sitting, and it contained all kinds of carbonated drinks. All the sodas were in glass bottles with classic looking labels, that had Pepsi, Coke, and some other ones with Spanish words on them. Right beside the fridge were two slushy machines. One slushy machine had a red drink called Aqua De Jamaica, and the other one a creamy white one, Horchata. Tamarind and infusions of hibiscus flowers are what give Jamaica its red color. My dad ordered Horchata, which is made from a combination of long grain rice, milk, and sugar. We both sipped on our ice cold drinks, while placing our orders to Maria. As we waited for our food to arrive, I headed towards a jukebox on the opposite side of where we were seated. I flipped through all the tracks of songs and in the end just chose one based on the the picture on the cover of the album. Just as I was heading back to my seat, I saw Maria with a circular tray the size of a tire filled with food. I scurried over to beat her to our table because I wanted to see why dad was so enthusiastic about bringing me to Espinoza’s. What happened next, I will never forget. The smell the awoke every last bit of my senses. An oval plate was placed in front of me, as if I were some royal being. Laid out in perfect layers were nacho chips that looked like a bloomed rose’s petals. On top of the petal-like chips were marinated chicken strips, grilled so you could see the marks on them, showing all of the effort that was put into its cooking. The chicken was seasoned with a blend of zesty Mexican spices. Hints of lemon, paprika, crushed peppers, and onion powder gave tastes of sourness to sweetness with every bite. Sauteed onions, sweet bell peppers, and tomatoes are what completed the next layer. Melted white cheese smothered the beans that were evenly distributed upon every nacho chip that existed on my dish. I took the first bite. Related by more than just the blood in our veins, my father and I are best friends. He has always known me more than I’ve known myself. He brought me to Espinoza’s because we both share a love for Mexican dishes. The flavors of the spices remind us of the connection and joy we have in our friendship. He even called me last night to remind me about the soccer game that would be on in ten minutes between Barcelona and Real Madrid. They tied one to one.