WE ALL KNOW WE HAVE mixed emotions about them. Here in California "Mexican restaurant" means one thing; in Texas, another; in Mexico, Curnonsky knows, it's a whole nuther thing.
We're in Grass Valley tonight, at Amigo's. I had shredded lamb from a steam-table, I think, with the conventional rice and beans and a couple of flour tortillas. (Corn was also offered; I prefer flour.) Red wine. A decent flan, rather a meaty one. Nothing special, but okay.
Lunch was another matter — cheeses, olives, almonds; chilled roast chicken; green salad — with four chefs in a shady back yard with a fine spaniel mutt in Petaluma. Very civilized.