Hope I Didn't Sit in Qusay's Chair

Today, I attended a luncheon thrown by my boss, who heads up not only my department, but several other departments in the organization. At noon, twelve of us met at the Guadalajara restaurant in Briarcliff Manor, NY. Unfortunately, this place gained a degree of notoriety when asshole Eric Trump celebrated his birthday there, donning a sombrero despite his father's racist attitude toward Mexican immigrants.

I had never dined at Guadalajara before, writing it off as a Tex-Mex place... when it comes to Mexican food, I prefer to patronize hole-in-the-wall places, the sort of places that serve buche and menudo. To be fair, though, the meal was very good. We were immediately presented with freshly fried tortilla chips and a decent mild salsa. After this start, we ordered several servings of guacamole, which was prepared tableside and served in molcajetes. The guacamole was excellent, having just a hint of a bite to offset its richness. The menu consisted mainly of tacos, burritos, tostadas, sizzling fajitas... pretty much standard Tex-Mex fare. I ordered chicken enchiladas mole poblano and was pleasantly surprised at how excellent the incredibly complex chocolate/chiles sauce was. One of my usual Mexican food destinations, the taco stand on 4th Ave and 9th St in Brooklyn, is owned by folks from Puebla, and when I asked them if they made mole poblano, the owner joked, "I make it at home." It was nice to have something this rich for lunch, though my tastes still run toward buche and tacos al pastor. Guadalajara also makes a creditable horchata, fragrant with cinnamon.

Of course, the best thing about lunch was the company. I love my co-workers, they are a great bunch. One particular co-worker, who emigrated from Ireland twenty-one years ago, had us in stitches with tales of her exploits... one of her best stories involves her driving off with the gas nozzle still in her car's intake, ripping it off of the pump. When she stopped and offered financial restitution, the owner told her, "Just leave and never come back!" Yeah, it was funnier delivered in her charmingly accented, mile-a-minute manner. At one point in her narrative, one of her closest co-workers chimed in, "Notice how she never completes a sentence?" It was a jocular lunch, and it went on for two hours... two hours of just hanging out and yukking it up. I may not be making a gajillion dollars, but I dig my job (my coworkers being a major factor).

All told, Guadalajara is a good Tex-Mex place, with touches of authenticity for people who know what to look for. The service was excellent, and we were able to hang out for two hours without being rushed. The fact that they served asshole Trump scions is actually a feather in the staff's cap- they are better than any of Donald's spawn. Plus, if any restaurant owners decided not to serve assholes, they'd be out of business in a day.