Vera Cruz

Vera Cruz
Bedford Street, Williamsburg

Pony once told me that Vera Cruz is her favorite Mexican joint in town. You gotta trust a gal from Texas, someone who grew up eating beans and tortillas as a snack after school (instead of Pringles, like me), someone who has traveled all around Mexico.

I don't like any place that has shredded lettuce as garnish. The vegatables seemed to have been soaked in some kind of acid/vinegar bath. Weird. The steak in the enchiladas were tender, but needed seasoning. Maybe even salt.

Apparently, I did not learn my lesson after Tacos Matamoros. But then again, I have never been to Mexico, and I still think that Cocina de Luz in Telluride is the best Mexican in the world. What the hell do I know?

I forgot to mention the crowd. The table next to us were a bunch of hospital workers still in their scrubs, ordering Beck's Dark and Guinness to go with their burritos. To my right, hipster girls in 70's plastic eyeglasses, droopy dresses, counting their cash and deciding to go for sushi instead. I've always hated the East Village, and its remarkable how many East Villagers now live in Williamsburg.