Fish Tacos. Alex Loves Them.

This article was brought to my attention by my roommate Kyle. Ezra Klein was able to eloquently put forth my exact experiences in regards to food in a new urban environment (though, I am not nearly as opposed to NYC as he). I have often lamented the lack of 'authentic' (what that really means is a debate I don't want to get into right now) mexican cuisine (since I too grew up in southern California suburbs) but, he's right; in reality I miss the nostalgia of taco memories with friends, tastes linked strongly to emotions.

"But as a Californian, I can still diss on DC’s food scene. Ask me about tacos sometime. Ask me about fish tacos sometime. And breakfast burritos. And what food tastes like right after a surf. And the appropriate frequency with which avocado should appear on my plate. But my dear friends who spend their days complaining about DC’s relative inadequacy are suffering, I think, from a crucial misconception: Namely, DC is not supposed to taste like your childhood home."

And He's right. So what does my new 'home away from home' taste like?


Part of the problem here in NYC is the sheer number of restaurants. It's easy to eat at a new place every day if you wanted. And I mean of the year if not the rest of your life. But I still have a few places I frequent more than others. Part of it is that I've lived in four different apartments in four years. But I can walk to all 4 of my old buildings in a matter of minutes. Part of it is that I've known the people back home for years. But aside from the fact that I live with Alex, who I've known for over a decade (damn, we are OLD), my other roommates are more important to me than I sometimes care to admit, that others prove to be more than amazing, or that even my friends back home I knew for less than three years before leaving them behind.

So do I have a favorite place that's less about the food than it is the memories? It's hard to say because I'm hit with both what seems a resounding flood of affirmatives at onset and a deadening silence of negative at specificity.

And so I sit here, realizing that, more than anything, places and tastes seem indelibly linked to not senses of home but of senses of friends. Something I think I'll write about soon.