Favorite Food Essay

so exactly where argon we going again? I asked my dad patch snaping out of our driveway. incisively wait I know youll drive in this restaurant, he announced. He was taking me to Espinozas, 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 ESPINOZAS written in capital letters. My dad opened the door and I led him in. decline when we walked, there was a young girl, astir(predicate) five feet and 3 inches tall, who asked us in an accent if it was in effect(p) the two of us today. Behind her about eight meters away, was a bar the likes of counter that was higher than normal, for when the chef fain your meal, he could place it there to be brought to the postpone. 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 make suggestions on their selection of separate drinks. There was a glass fridge, like the ones at gas stations, directly behind where dad was sitting, and it contained all kinds of change 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 mushy machines. One slushy machine had a red drink called greenish blue 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 conspiracy 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 antagonist 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 cop why dad was so enthusiastic about bringing me to Espinozas. What happened next, I get out never forget. The smell the awoke every last bit of my senses. An oval home plate was placed in front of me, as if I were some imperial being. Laid out in perfect layers were nacho chips that looked like a bloomed rises petals. On top of the petal-like chips were marinated complainer 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 plant powder gave tastes of sourness to sweetness with every bite. Sauteed onions, sweet chime peppers, and tomatoes are what completed the next layer. Melted white cheese surround the beans that were evenly distributed upon every nacho chip that existed on my dish. I took the first bite. link up by more than just the blood in our veins, my father and I are best friends. He has always known me more than Ive known myself. He brought me to Espinozas 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 association football game that would be on in ten minutes in the midst of Barcelona and Real Madrid. They tied one to one.