One man. 2 horses. Mexican food. The guy’s got it all really.
Los potrillos means, of course, “the young horses,” which is a great name for anything, particularly a place that serves burritos (little donkeys).
It’s a great sign. Trying to lead a couple of horses (to water, say) is a good analogy for so many things, most of which would call for some nachos and a few margaritas when finished. For sure, it is sometimes how it feels to have 2 boys. Though, maybe a more appropriate image for that case would be if the guy was trying to ride both horses at once, and maybe one wanted to graze in the pasture and the other was hell bent on cresting that mountain over yonder.
At any rate, last night didn’t feel that way, partly because I only had the bigger of my two horses. And he and I had the same agenda. Enchiladas. And so we rolled into this legendary establishment (in a car) as the sun was setting over Cerrillos. That probably sounds more appealing, perhaps, than it is. Cerrillos Rd is one big drag—of strip malls and car dealerships. I think most would agree, if there is a road in Santa Fe to avoid, Cerrillos is it. Though as you can see from the pic, even it has some romance as the sun goes down. And no doubt it looked great back in the day, when travelers were coming in with their hands on a couple of ponies.
Santa Fe is pretty different than it was 50 or 100 years ago. But you still get flashes of what it might have been like, particularly as the weather starts to turn cold and the smell of the pinon wood returns to the air. Even on Cerrillos, you get flashes…
Anyway, we ordered what we came for. We waited. We discussed what exactly constituted “Frito Pie,” which Jackson had apparently eaten with great excitement for lunch at school. Then came the enchiladas, which I suppose is the city dish, if such a thing exists. Homemade corn tortillas rolled around any number of fillings (in our case, chicken and cheese) and then smothered in the state sauce, green chile. And man, even though the debate was on and so Jackson said “daddy, what’s a nuclear weapon?” and then “so is Iran going to get one?” and then “will it hurt us if they get one?” …even despite all that, they tasted so good. Soft, smokey and sweet. A perfect combination, really.
Then we went out into the night, hand and hand. I snapped the pic you see above. His little mind was racing to new topics: mainly when we would begin carving pumpkins this year. I was thinking about Iran…and about those enchiladas…about how strange it is that we’re capable of such disparate thoughts. But then my mind moved on as well. And I pulled out onto Cerrillos with pretty much just one thought: how much I love my two boys.