”Let’s do the time warp again.” We walked into the place singing a little Rocky Horror ditty. 13 years had gone by and nothing had changed. The same whitewashed walls in a room best described as a garage. The same mismatched furniture. The same in-your-face...
I’d lost touch with Maria. I’m not sure who was the most to blame. Maria for moving so often. Or me for not hunting her down. She’d always been one of my favorite San Miguel chefs. And, when it came to putting value on a plate, there may have never been anyone better...
Carlos Sanchez was the first San Miguelense I ever met. He greeted our car from the airport, he took our bags, he shook my hand, and he introduced himself as the house manager of the home we had rented on Pila Seca. There was something I liked about Carlos Sanchez....
I’d eaten sweet potatoes for a lot of years. Mostly smothered in butter and sprinkled with salt as the side to a roast of pork. Then I came to San Miguel de Allende and my tongue got all twisted around. In Mexico, the locals eat sweet potatoes as dessert. I thought...
It was my last night in San Miguel before heading up to Toronto for a few weeks. Don Day’s Wife was suffering some post-Covid blues so I asked a couple of my favorite guys to join me in my five o’clock ritual. “Venencia?”, said Jack, “never heard of it”. “It’s on...
I don’t remember their exact words. But it went something like this. “I don’t get Trip Advisor. A little hole in the wall like El Pato is constantly in the top ten and a gorgeous place like Bovine is down in the 200’s.” I could have taken it a step further. How can...
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