Latrice A.
Google
A Taco Adventure So Dramatic I Should've Gotten Closing Credits
Dear Guisados,
Let me confess how you fed me, rescued me, AND made me blush a little.
It was almost 9pm when I pulled up. I was driving down the coast, trying to find parking so I could stare
at the ocean and fix my entire mood. I’d barely eaten all day (one sad tuna sandwich that absolutely did
not do its job), and my stomach was filing complaints.
I’m circling the beach lots, annoyed, hungry, over it… and then I see YOU.
Warm lights. Cozy glow. Vibes immaculate.
Your sign basically grabbed me by the soul and said:
“Hey. You. Turn around. We have tacos.”
So obviously, I busted a U-turn so dramatic it could’ve been a trailer moment.
I walk in and instantly get hit with the smell of steak so good it temporarily healed my childhood.
Slow-stewed, juicy, rich — the kind of smell that says, “Your night is about to get better.”
And then there was the cashier.
Cute. Calm. Soft smile.
I tell him:
“Real talk? I’ve got $11. I’m starving. I just need something. Whatever I can get with that. ”
He stays sweet while we go over the menu(rude), patient, when I asked for steak in a burrito, explaining why it just isn't done (ruder), and then asks if I want something to drink.
I’m like, “I probably have a few extra dollars for that, yeah lets throw in an horchata”, Fully prepared to scrape together the change to pay for all of it.
He says:
“The horchata’s on me.”
Sir. Please. I’m weak.
Then he adds his employee discount, dropping my total to $7.92. I go to pay and try to leave a $2 tip cause I mean come on, this guy is an absolute saint.
BUT THEN — chaos.
My phone tap fails.
The payment screen freezes.
He asks if I have a physical card.
So I run back to my car —which is a mess cause I'm a mess— I dig through doors,
seats, pockets, the entire void. I finally find my wallet…
NO card.
I was just about to start walking back toward the restaurant, stomach dramatic, spirit broken, ready to admit defeat and apologize for wasting so much of that sweet dudes time (and make do with just a cup of water).
And then — HERE’S THE MOMENT.
He doesn’t wait for me to walk inside.
He doesn’t let me explain.
He RUNS OUTSIDE to me with the tacos AND the horchata like:
“Hey! Don’t worry about it. Have a good night.”
Sir… kindness like that should come with a warning label.
I sat in my car, under the streetlight, and ate those tacos with the passion of someone who just survived a mini emotional saga.
They were phenomenal.
Juicy. Tender. Flavorful.
Two little tortilla-wrapped miracles.
And here’s the real reason I’m writing this:
It’s late at night *right now*, hours later, and I still can’t stop thinking about that moment. About the kindness. About the food. About the whole vibe.
To the restaurant:
Your food is incredible.
Your service is unforgettable.
I’ll be back — with money, a functioning card, and friends who I will personally drag in with me so they can experience the magic too.
With love and a very dramatic U-turn,
Latrice