Our weekend Spanish celebration went off without a hitch. Friday evening greeted us with our first meal at Portland's Los Gorditos. We ordered dinner-to-go at the new Pearl location and even saw one of my Spanish 203 classmates there.
Cambria ordered the Carne Asada Tacototes (not tah-ko-totes, rather tah-ko-toe-tays). I, on the other hand, waded knee-deep into a Garbage Burrito.
On Saturday, Wifey and I spoke to the always entertaining staff at Tenth Ave Liquor. We discussed the variances in tequila and mezcal and the cough-syrupy wrongness that is Early Times. Meanwhile, I defended myself against the accusations that I was a soulless ginger, while Cambria blushed at the onslaught of driver's-license-photo compliments.
We ended up with this fine, wormy purchase:
We capped off the weekend with the perfect Sunday night dinner: Homemade Taco Pizza. Cambria lead the way, as she is the taco-pizza expert—Trader Joe's dough, tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, refried beans, lettuce, olives and taco meat. She even crafted it into a loving homage to the state of Oregon. And little Margaret helped, of course.
Wifey, you're the best!
Just to top off such a Spanish-tinged weekend, I also finished Gringos. My Spanish summer now seems all sewn up—now I'm bringing in the fall with Willa Cather. Glory hallelujah!
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