Carlos and Mickeys-- And the End of My 6-Pack

Every winter I venture to a happy, sunny, warm place full of rustic charm, good, cheap food, and great margheritas. No, its not Cabo, Cancun, or even Rocky Point. I go to El Paso, Texas, a town that borders Juarez Mexico and features some of the best damned rock climbing in the United States. My group of friends typically spends an evening or two in Juarez at an absolutely incredible Mexican restaurant with some of the finest tequila you have never heard of, a small dining room, and a chef that has been there for a decade (who loves to share his unheard of tequila with you). Alas, recent beheadings and copious amounts of rape and other activities that we generally "poo-poo" have rendered the culinary journey to Juarez a bit too risky to attempt. So today's piece is about Carlos and Mickeys, a big, loud, fun Mexican food spot in El Paso. We arrive thirsty, starving, and sunburnt after a day of climbing and as usual, have to wait for a table (its Thursday night). We head to the roudy bar to grab a margherita. One of the girls in the group wants to reminisce on her nights in the frat house I guess, and orders the "Texas" size margherita, which combines all the goodness of my standard margherita in a serving that would satisfy all the participants on "Dance Your A$$ Off." (A show which will likely be reviewed in the future due to its inspiring title.)

We make it to dinner and someone orders nachos, at which point peer pressure sets in and I decide to say "fuck it" to the health menu and order "Tacos al Pastor" which I learned about via an Anthony Bourdaine episode on authentic Mexican street food.

Feeling positively buzzed and having already thrown my health consciousness out the window, I order a flan, which was no afterthought. Then just as the check arrives that damned Rosa comes wheeling around from the kitchen with a tray full of sopapillas for the neighboring table, and I give in, ordering my own, with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream as a fitting side dish. The fat little kid inside me springs free, and I proceed to eat all three sops and half the ice-cream.