Last weekend I was in Las Cruces, New Mexico where my little brother currently resides. He took me to a restaurant called simply El Taco. It was a dumpy little joint, occupying something that looked like a run down IHOP, and populated with funny looking picnic tables. For a dollar, you could score a taco of several different varieties, one being Cabesa. I have avoided the head taco on previous occasions, but El Taco was nice enough to translate on their sign, Cabesa being translated as Beef Cheek. While that still qualifies as head, I have heard from others about beef cheek being quite nice. So I ordered one. The folks at El Taco have boiled their tacos down to the simplest form, meat and tortilla, so what I got was some shredded beef on a corn tortilla. Jazzed up with lots of gear from the well stocked salsa bar (couple varieties of green salsa, red salsa, onions and cilantro, and some tasty baked jalapenos that set my gullet on fire for the next several hours) and the head taco was not half bad. An oily meat with more flavor than plain old beef. Head on!
I decided long ago that the monotony of my daily routines weren't going to cut it long term. Sure, I still float through with some routine (wake up, shower, shave, clothes, hair, dog, food, boy), but I try to bust out whenever possible. Shake things up a bit. I'm not talking about anything transcendental, or finding Jesus or any nonsense like that, just exploring my surroundings a little bit and jumping out of the comfort of the routine. That's where dives come in. Denver is full of them. Places you can go that get your senses humming and make you feel maybe a little uncomfortable. There's that bar that serves a mean pizza and sits across from the holding facility for the county jail. There's that restaurant where you can order up a Head taco, if you can scrape together a little Spanish. When you see these places, you usually find yourself thinking, 'Who goes there?'. I do.