Life lessons at the world's greatest mexican restaurant

So yesterday, after the ING marathon my aunt and uncle took Nola, Amy and I to this Mexican restaurant out somewhere west of Roswell (Georgia...not where the aliens crashed). A little blip in a tiny strip mall, smack between a dry cleaners and a Tae Kwon Do studio, Vallarta was totally unremarkable in appearance. I asked Uncle Joe how he found it, in such a random location a pretty good distance (even for Atlanta), from his house. He said it was his poker buddy Grover's favorite place. Joe said Grover could never play poker on Friday nights, because Friday was margarita night. Then, laughing, he said he always thought "margarita night" was a euphemism for Grover getting...and then he stumbled, realizing our 7 year old was along for the ride. I rescued him saying "yeah...we know what you thought Grover was getting."

Anyway, apparently Vallarta is the home of the bottomless margarita. They had like five different sizes on the menu, from small to "fishbowl," but apparently, if you're in the know you just order "margarita" and they bring you a glass. And as soon as you half-way empty it, up shows the waiter with a pitcher who refills it. And that repeats until you slur "no mas."

And even then, they give you more. Bueno.

Add to that a free bowl of chicken soup and free desert at the end with perfectly edible food in the middle and I can't believe these guys are still in business. But this wet dream of spice and liquor wasn't without its quirks--both nestled neatly in the menu. No...not the food. The food was pretty standard stuff. What was interesting was the lunch menu (and the lunch special on the board). Both notable for the fact that they are only open from 5pm during the week and 4pm on Saturdays. Maybe there's some secredt lunch cabal at Vallarta. Who knows. It's weird what you think about after your fifth glass of limey-tequilla-y goodness.

Then there were the instructions for eating Mexican food, at the bottom of the menu page describing what tacos, burritos and enchilladas are. I haven't seen that in years, and figured that by now, people just knew. I've also seen before, and also not in years, that sentence saying it's cool to pick a taco up with your hands. I mean, seriously, does anyone go all George Costanza-with-a-Snickers-bar and try to slice into a crunchy taco with a knife and fork? I've never seen it. I'd like to, but I haven't. But what was interesting about this disclaimer was what was apparently lost in translation:

"It is perfectly acceptable and expected to teach tacos with your hands."

Cause, ya know, spare the rod and spoil the meat in a tortilla and all.