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Benham column: Any event is better with Mexican food
| Thursday, Jun 26 2008 1:32 PM
Last Updated: Thursday, Jun 26 2008 1:32 PM
Recently, I attended a 21st birthday for a friend’s daughter at Mexicali downtown. If you are going to turn 21, Mexicali is a good place to celebrate.
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I was happy to see the bowls of chips and salsa on the table when I entered the room. A man entering a Mexican restaurant has a couple of things on his mind, and one of those is chips and salsa. A good Mexican restaurant says, “Come in, eat, and if it’s your birthday, we might even put the big hat on you.”
A Mexican restaurant inspires a certain kind of business. Before getting to the business at hand — in this case the 21st birthday — I had to take care of some personal business.
I started by laying down a base of chips and salsa and then shifted smoothly into a blended margarita.
With blended, there is the satisfying ring of salt. The rocks are the rocks and seem like a more serious version of what is essentially a frou-frou drink.
This is to say, there is no disguising a frou-frou drink. Rocks or blended, a margarita might as well come with an umbrella, a chaise lounge and a thick white towel.
That frou-frou drink went down easily as they are wont to do, and by the time I had dribbled the last of the frozen white concoction of ice and salt down my throat, the waiter had brought a round tray packed with margaritas on the rocks. There must have been 15 of those babies.
I grabbed one from the tray and took a long swig. I’m not saying I gave it all I had, but I just about sucked the shine off the ice.
Another waiter brought in a large plate of nachos with melted cheese over jalapeńo peppers, refried beans and shrimp. It was a happy plate that might as well have said, “Eat until you can see your reflection in the plate. I know you want to.”
Having concluded my personal business, I looked around the room to see who was there. Prior to that, if they hadn’t come in with a ring of salt around their necks or led with a nacho handshake, I wasn’t interested.
There were three groups of people, the first being the men. The men were talking about men things like the heat, the price of oil and how bad the economy was.
The women, who wanted no part of any conversation that included the words “oil” or “gross national product,” were talking about whatever they were talking about and whatever that was, it seemed to help them live longer and smile more.
Then there were the kids, most of them 18 and over, standing confidently on the other side of the room, laughing, having fun, looking every bit the generation comfortable with the idea of sitting at the head table.
They are growing up. Doing just fine. What were we sweating about?
During dinner, there were toasts. Parents, friends of parents and then just friends.
Even the youngest brother, a young man who is careful with his words, spoke. Not only spoke, but spoke generously of his older sister who, if she is like any other older sister, probably spent a certain amount of time torturing him.
They brought out the cake. We sang. The birthday girl couldn’t have looked cuter with the big hat on her.
She was beaming brighter than 21 suns.
Opinions expressed are those of Herb Benham, not The Californian. His column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays. Call him at 395-7279 or e-mail him at hbenham@bakersfield.com.