Restaurant regular (and irregularities)

Last Friday, I made myself ridiculously happy by lunching at Cantina Laredo, a California-style, Tex-Mex restaurant located in the mall at the end of 9th Street. Today, as I dragged K back again for their warm, wafer-thin tortilla chips, first-rate salsa and lunch combos, I realized I have lived here long enough to have a favorite restaurant; the kind that serves food I anticipate throughout the week and savor whenever I visit, then count the hours until I can go back.

It's the food and the ambiance, but mostly the food. And it's no coincidence it's Mexican, which is rare here in all forms, but especially in the high-quality/high-value category. It probably couldn't win a blind taste-test with your favorite burrito joint in the States, but here in the Arabian desert, it is something special. This California girl is most excited about the salsa, which they must make themselves (fresh, peppery, just the right amount of bite). They have a complete menu of Mexican favorites and a guacamole-making ritual wherein a waiter makes the guac for you right at the table (like fancy restaurants used to do with caesar salad back in the 80s).

The restaurant itself has tables, but the walls are lined with comfy booths (love booths!). The waitstaff is attentive and chipper. One's soda glass is often replaced with a fresh one (with plenty of ice! Europeans, take a lesson...) before it's halfway drained. (This strikes me as a waste, but you can't fault their enthusiasm).

Cantina Laredo may be a little piece of California Tex-Mex on the shores of the Persian Gulf, but there is one thing that is classic Abu Dhabi. The menu features a page labeled "cocktails." There is what looks like a full bar at one end of the restaurant with a range of glasses for every occasion. It's tempting to get excited at the sangria on offer or the pina coladas. Unless you know better, nothing on the menu leads you to believe that you will not be served a margarita in the classic sense. But you won't because none of these cocktails have even a part-per-millionth of alcohol in them. Jose Cuervo has not crossed this particular border.

This, by itself, is not surprising. Alcohol here can only be sold in hotel bars and restaurants and, as mentioned previously, you need a special license just to buy it. I can only imagine the red tape involved in selling it. What's surprising about Cantina Laredo's cocktail menu (and thousands of others in the city) is the unabashed way they refer to grape juice with fruit in it as sangria or orange juice and seltzer as a mimosa. I mean, really...these words are steeped in alcoholic implication. They don't exist on their own. A mimosa is not a mimosa without champagne. It's just orange juice--there's nothing more to say. K and I sampled some of these mocktails today and found them pleasant fruit-juice drinks, served with slices of fruit on the rim in tall, icy glasses. But the whole time I was thinking, Why have a dry restaurant if you're going to put so much time and effort into pretending you're not? Are the locals I saw chowing down on enchiladas and fajitas fantasizing about the drink they can't have when they order a margarita or mimosa? Are they playing make-believe as they sip, like young kids who pretend to "smoke" their pretzel rods or pencils? After all, the drinks would be just as yummy with names like "Effervescent Orange" or "Pineapple/Coconut Dream."

I'll have plenty of time to mull this over because I plan to return to Cantina Laredo soon and continue my research. If you have any ideas about what's going on, let me know...