While the rest of the family was eating overcooked sirloin last night, my husband had dinner at Nopalito:
Man, those carnitas look mighty tasty. Bitch. I’m not bitter or anything. I just know that I have to eat that dry, leftover sirloin tonight at work. Again. Sigh.
Here’s my hubby’s take on Nopalito:
I dropped by tonight to grab some dinner before heading home. Despite it being a weeknight, the place was packed — I couldn’t even manage to talk my way into a seat at the bar. Luckily, the takeout counter beckoned.
Fifteen bucks gets you a fist-sized portion of crisp-on-the-outside, tender-on-the-inside carnitas. The slow-braised pork is fatty and mouth-filling, and served with a cabbage salad (which could have used a touch more acid), perfectly pickled jalapeños and emerald-green tomatillo salsa.
My one complaint about the takeout counter: Its tiny waiting area is also where diners queue up to go use the facilities. (You know: Where you pee-pee and/or poo-poo.) As I stood by the counter to await my food, I was accosted by three different people asking whether I was waiting to use the men’s room.
"It’s VACANT, you know," a sweaty, red-faced guy said, pointing to the door to the loo.
"I know," I replied. "I’m not waiting for the restroom. Go ahead."
"GREAT, ‘cause I NEED to get something out of my SYSTEM!"
Which reminds me: Nopalito offers a wide selection of alcoholic beverages.