At the beginning of this year, I began eating the Slow-Carb diet as featured in Timothy Ferriss’s The Four Hour Body. I’ve read several people who claim the diet is hard to stick to, but by this point I’m no stranger to bizarre food requirements. I’ve been allergic to fish since puberty. In early 2009, an experiment in vegetarianism inspired by various claims of increased well-being from vegetarians turned into a year and a half of meatless eating.
Tim claims in his book that Thai and Mexican cuisines are among the most friendly to the slow-carb diet. This was convenient for me, because those are also some of the best for vegetarians. I only had to change my lunch routine very slightly, but I did have to find new things to order everywhere I ate.
The change also inspired me to look around for more restaurants that worked for me. One that I discovered just under my nose was a Mexican establishment named Torero’s that is about a one minute drive from my apartment. I was excited to discover this, as if it worked out, I would have another place to eat nearby.
I first ate there on a Wednesday evening. I didn’t find much in the main menu that looked like it would work well with my diet, but I found what I was looking for in the daily specials. The Wednesday special was an Americanized version of “carnitas”: either top sirloin or boneless chicken sauteed with green peppers and onions, served with guacamole. I needed something without rice, tortillas, or dairy, so this was perfect.
I ordered it with chicken, no cheese, no sour cream, whole beans instead of refried, and lettuce instead of rice. It was delicious. It blew away every Mexican dish I had eaten anywhere else in Renton, and I was happy to have fantastic food so close.
A few days later, I realized that what I really wanted to eat was that same thing again. There was just one problem: it wasn’t Wednesday.
When my server came to take my order, I put on my best sympathetic and sheepish look. “I know it isn’t Wednesday, but I’d really like to have the carnitas. Can you still make that for me?”
She laughed, then smiled with what struck me as the playful, knowing glow of a benevolent, helpful, and amused universe. “Honey, we’ll make that for you any day.” And they did.
This was, perhaps, the best-tasting lesson I’ve ever recieved. Is there a weekend special that you want on Thursday? Is there a monthly special that you had two days ago that you want again? Maybe you can have it if you ask the right questions. I’ve asked for several “specials” since then, and gotten more of them than I thought I would.
That said, I’m heading off to Torero’s for dinner. I already know what I’m having. Sure, it’s Wednesday, but as we now know, that just doesn’t matter.
