“We realized this was not our soup. It was the customers’. They’re very possessive.”
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Stories by Ed Bedford
“You’d pay $13, $14 at other places for what you get here for $8.61, including the tax.”
“There’s a group of us, We’ve got all the answers to the world’s problems, right here.”
“I wanted to make a place where you got good food and could fill yourself up for five bucks.”
“They’re growing up soft, less healthy, because they eat burgers and tacos and fries.”
“What a day. Nothing’s falling right. Gimme a beer, sweetheart. And meatballs. Your famous meatballs.”
I make a pig of myself, crunching the tostada, gunging into the fish taco, and slurping coconut.
“We’re from Chicago. We ordered a sausage-and-mushroom pizza to see if they measured up.”
“Take the chop suey,” says the waitress. “Filling. It has vegetables as well as meat.”
“They say people are harder back there, but once you’re their friends, you are friends for life.”
“There’s something about it. The old feel, not dressed up, real. Neighborly. Could be back in Queens.”
“I was a waiter, Peter was a sales rep. This was a big leap. But it took off, from day one.”
“We called it quits about 18 months ago. Reopened as this pub…with a serious attitude toward beers.”
“Pete’s created a good feeling here. Employee of the year gets to go skydiving with him. Right, Pete?”
“Colonel Manuel Ferrar built it and named it after his wife Rosario. She was the niece of Pio Pico.”
“Three days, celebrating the arrival of the monsoon. People throw water at each other. It’s silly but fun.”
“This is what Mexico’s peasants live on. America is exploding because it eats too much.”
“I’m sitting. Don’t think my legs’ll hold up for how long this is gonna take.”
“He always wanted to open a place which gave you the real street food from Tijuana. No frills.”
"Wanted: A good woman who can clean, sew, cook fish, dig worms, and owns a boat and motor.”
“He struck oil several times. Trouble was, there was always salt water with it.”
“Hey, I’m sorry for what your country suffered in the tsunami. Do you have relatives there?”
“It became a catering business. Soon, she couldn’t fit it all into our kitchen.”
“Uh-oh. Look outside, man,” says Hank. “Is there a back door? The place is surrounded by cops.”
Hank lunges into his salad. “Oh, God,” he says. “I’ve got yours. Greek, right?”
“I can afford it every day because I’m not married. Most of the guys have families. They can’t come as often as me.”
“The Thai believe that in a time of weather, seasonal changes make a person vulnerable.”
This is weird. Last year I was sitting right here in this ancient Wild West shack in Old Town, in the selfsame squiggly wrought-iron seat, drooling over English tea and crumpets, waiting on dusk for …
Mike comes out and sits down. “This program works,” he says. “Eighty percent of our guys who graduate are in a job and sober and off the streets a year later. It’s definitely worth it.”