(If, in your head, you were singing along and finished that sentence with, “I really really really wanna zig-a-zig-ah” then I know you belong to a certain generation that heard far too much of that minimally talented pop group known as the Spice Girls.)
What do I really want? Besides all Spice Girls music to disappear from the planet, and the obvious things: world peace, to drop 10 pounds without even trying, for chocolate to become an all-you-can-eat health food, and for my children to stop discussing bodily functions at mealtimes, I really, really, really want a decent Mexican restaurant.
I’m hoping such a thing exists somewhere in this nation, though all of the Brits I’ve polled so far (admittedly, a fairly small number) agree with me that there is no such thing here. Every so many months I start to crave real, homemade salsa, still-warm homemade tortilla chips, a decent burrito.
And today is that day.
While Britain is known for its scones, cream teas, Sunday roast dinners, and really good Indian food–and I appreciate all those things, I really do–England just doesn’t do Mexican. Fair enough. It has no ties to Mexico, no Mexican immigrants, no shared border . . . but is one good restaurant too much to ask?
If anyone out there knows of a real, authentic (ok, authentically-inspired?) Mexican restaurant in this great nation, please let me know. Don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath.