grin·go: a foreigner in Spain or Latin America especially when of English or American origin; broadly: a non-Hispanic person.
To celebrate her birthday, Anne and I went out for dinner Monday night. There was some dithering beforehand, should we go out or just stay home? Afterall, we had both had a large meal just the day before. In the end, Anne said that she needed to buy a book for [name redacted]. So we trundled off together to Left Bank Books in the Central Left End. After shopping we discovered Gringo, a new Mexican restaurant, just across the street. Located at the corner of Euclid and McPherson, where Rothschild Antiques was once located. It was bittersweet to see Rothschild go, but Gringo looks like a nice addition.
As an aside, we once bought a wooden deck chair at Rothschild. The salesman there said that it had come from the Titanic. I was naive enough to half believe him. After a couple of months, in the quiet hours of the night, we began to hear a scratching sound emanating from this chair. We joked that it was haunted by a ghost from the Titanic. The noises continued off and on until one day we discovered a little pile of sawdust beneath the chair and a perfectly round hole drilled out the back of it. We surmised that the chair had actually come from a Caribbean cruise ship, rather than the Titanic and the noises came from a tropical parasite. Not willing to risk an infestation, we got rid of the chair.
The following is Gringo’s self-description:
Our name says it all. We are red-blooded Americans serving authentic modern Mexican food with a twist. We are a handmade taco, small batch craft beer and tequila restaurant in an environment best described as a re-imagined mid-century Baja surf lodge.
Gringo had only been open for less than a week, when we went there. The wait-staff was still bubbling over with newbie enthusiasm. The margaritas were strong, the tacos à la carte and it was all good. Two restaurants in two days and I must recommend them both. Run don’t walk to Gringo, before it is discovered.
UPDATE: Anne reminded me of the following humorus exchange:
Anne: ¡Hola! ¿Cómo es tu?
Hostess: Table for two?