Tacos Trump Enchiladas

My wife suggested enchiladas for my birthday meal and I agreed heartily, but then she asked, "Do enchiladas count as tacos?" and I told her that if I was going to do things honestly, then they did not, so instead she made fish tacos (which I also love) and I ate five, which really ups my 2011 Taco Count, but now I'm in a weird world where I am eating more tacos just because I am counting how many tacos I am eating . . . and I know this applies to something statistical in the real world, but I'm too full to make the connection.

Lady in Red

I am in an awful relationship with the hot sauce from Taco House, our new favorite hole-in-the-wall authentic taqueria in New Brunswick-- when you get tacos to go, they give you a couple sauce containers of green salsa, which is zesty and just a little bit spicy, you can use as much of it as you want on your tacos and they also give you a couple containers of the red sauce, and a couple containers of this stuff is overkill because you can't use very much of it, as it is very, very hot (but also very very tasty) and so once the tacos are done, there is still plenty of red sauce, which I always place carefully in the refrigerator so I can consume it later . . . and then my wife and kids watch me eat the red sauce in various amounts for the next few days and these endeavors always end in tears-- I'm crying, my kids are yelling at me to stop eating the sauce, and my wife just shakes her head in bewilderment-- and then last night, after dipping chips in the sauce while we watched an especially stressful episode of Better Call Saul, my stomach gave out and I threw the sauce away (after Alex ate some . . . he's an idiot too, but he drank some milk-- yuck!-- and it assuaged the pain) and I'm still suffering the consequences of the sauce this morning, but if it were still in the fridge, I would pour some on my eggs . . . this is one of those reciprocally abusive relationships where the only answer is a clean break, the next time I get tacos from Taco House, I'm going to have to refuse the red sauce.

I Corrupt My Six Year Old Son

My son Ian wants in on the Taco Count-- and though I realize this is no way to encourage healthy eating habits, I can't proscribe him from the fun without being a total hypocrite-- and so I am keeping track of his taco consumption (which is impressive, he's now eating four tacos at a sitting-- two hard shell and two soft shell-- the same amount that my wife eats) but I am going to prorate his Count for both his weight (which is 1/4 of mine) and the time (three months instead of twelve) and so for each taco that he eats in the next three months, I will multiply it by four to compensate for his small size and then multiply again by four so that it is equivalent to a year of taco eating . . . so each taco he eats will count as sixteen 2011 Tacos . . . and he's already eaten eight tacos in October . . . so that's 128 pro-rated tacos for his annual count.

Read My Lips: No New Resolutions

I'm going to be honest here: the only New Year's Resolution I ever followed through on was in 2011, when I resolved to eat more tacos (but I can't even be sure that I ate more tacos than usual, because in any given year, I eat a lot of tacos-- the experiment/resolution lacked a control year-- and, empirically speaking, the only thing I actually accomplished was to count the number of tacos I ate that year) and the rest of my resolutions have been ironic or farfetched, and so this year I resolve to do nothing other than do more of the same-- just a little bit better: I'm going to eat a little healthier, drink a little less in quantity-- but make up for it in quality, exercise a little more, lose my temper less, appreciate my wife more, coach a little more creatively, teach a little more effectively, record music more consistently, practice my guitar more diligently, tuck my elbow straighter when I shoot a basketball, take the dog on longer walks, find slightly better books to read, play a few more board games with my kids, cook dinner a few more times than I did last year, and-- finally-- and this is the biggest one on the list, and the wholesale change that I'm making in 2015 . . . read my lips for this one: no more pleated pants (for the most part, I have switched to flat-front pants, but I still had a few remnant pairs of pleated pants-- from the '90's?-- in my wardrobe and once in a while I would wear them, to the dismay of my wife and colleagues . . . but I donated them all last week, so I'm locked in to this particular resolution, which I'm sure is a good thing).

Save Your Money AND Eat Well . . .

If you're in the New Brunswick area and want a good meal, you don't need to drop a butt-wad of cash at The Frog and the Peach . . . if you are actually in New Brunswick proper, then my two favorite places are Cafe La Terrassa: delicious Latin American food, ambiance, and reasonable prices (and it's BYOB) and Costa Chica: festive chairs, authentic Mexican (get the tacos al pastor) and pizza . . . and if you are closer to Edison, then try Taqueria La Juquilita on Woodbridge Avenue -- it looks like a little grocery mart -- this place is also authentic Mexican -- the chicken mole is awesome and the chorizo and pork tacos are also fantastic -- get the the tacos "al mano" in the homemade corn tortillas . . . I really want these places to be successful, so please patronize them!

O Canada!

Counting tacos was fun, but it did get a bit tedious (plus, I prefer tamales to tacos, and there were a few times when I had the opportunity to order tamales and would have preferred to eat tamales, but I ordered tacos just to up the count . . . the sacrifices I make for this blog!) and so for 2012, I am resolving to do something a bit more abstract, although I will still attempt to assess my progress here at Sentence of Dave . . . and the reason I choose this particular resolution, which I will reveal shortly, is because of an embarrassing conversation I had with my son's soccer coach-- who is Canadian-- in which I revealed a shocking ignorance of Canadian geography and culture, and-- when I was pressed-- I could not name the capital of Canada (and I am not retarded geographically-- I can name loads of obscure capital cities from countries such as Syria, Jordan, Turkey, Qatar, Ecuador, Bolivia, etc. and I present myself as fairly well-traveled individual, which made this exchange even more embarrassing) and so, for my New Year's Resolution in 2012, I swear to Care More About Canada and I will keep a counter of times when I care about something Canadian . . . when I research a fact about Canada or make an attempt to listen to a Canadian musician or watch a Canadian film or TV show or follow some part of Canadian politics or sports or culture . . . and I am confident I can care more about Canada than I did in 2011, when I did not care about Canada even once (I did care about friends that I have in Canada-- I taught with a number of Canadians when I was in Syria-- but that doesn't count . . . I'm going to try to care more about Canada itself, the nation just to our north with which we share a 3,987 mile border).

F- Tacos

The boys and I went to the delicious Mexican place in Princeton on Friday and I was going to get a taco to increase my 2011 Taco Count, but I didn't want a taco, I wanted a chorizo burrito and a chicken tamale-- smothered in mole sauce-- but I felt sort of guilty that I was squandering a chance to up the taco count, but then I got angry because the taco count was my own invention and why should I let something that I invented seep into my consciousness and affect my decisions . . . why should I be beholden to something that I jokingly created . . . especially since it was about satirizing New Year's resolutions . . . and if I wanted a tamale and a burrito then I was going to get a tamale and a burrito, especially since I was rarely in Princeton and I deserved a tamale and a chorizo burrito because I just did a scavenger hunt in the Princeton Art Museum with my children-- which was both fun and educational-- and so I deserved to order what I wanted because I was a good dad and there was no way I was going to let my life be controlled by tacos and some stupid number posted on my third rate blog . . . and so I said to myself, "I am not a number! I am more than a number (of tacos)!" and I ordered the tamale and the burrito and they were delicious.

Comparing and Contrasting Insane People (with an extra dash of irony)

While I recognize the irony of someone like myself judging lunatics who write lots of words on the internet, I still can't help offering my two cents: last Spring Break we ate an amazing little taco joint in New Paltz called Mexicali Blue, and while the Yelp reviews are generally quite positive, there are also some fascinating narratives sprinkled in the mix, about mischarges for guacamole and enduring loud music -- long competent narratives with loads of details . . . in fact, if they weren't written on a restaurant-review web-site, these people might pass for educated and normal . . . and we spent this Spring Break in Southern Vermont and when I drove through Ludlow, on my way to get some new bindings for my snowboard, I saw a little shack called Taco's Taco's (that's how it is spelled on the sign) and I love tacos, so I checked the Yelp reviews and while I will definitely never visit this restaurant, I am glad I visited the reviews, because while they are bad, they are also wonderfully written, informative, entertaining, and quite funny . . . especially "Tasteless Tacos, Bogus Burritos, and Nasty Nachos," written by David K from Fort Lee, New Jersey, who describes his "first taste of nachos at Rye Playland Ice Skating Rink" and says that they were "totally better" than the nachos at Taco's Taco's . . . he also calls their Spanish Rice "one word: disgraceful" and claims that the rice is not only an insult to Spanish people, but to all people "of Hispanic descent."

If You Don't See It, You Might Like It

When I make tacos, I use beer as the liquid to absorb the seasonings-- but when my wife is around while I'm cooking, she won't allow me to do this . . . even though she always loves my tacos-- because she claims she doesn't like things cooked with beer (she obviously does) and when I'm around, my wife can't cook anything with milk in it, because I don't like things with milk as an ingredient (even though my wife makes plenty of recipes that contain milk . . . it's reciprocal, if I don't see the milk go into the food, I'm fine with, but if I see it happen, then I don't want to eat it).

Live Vicariously Through Dave!

For all of you folks that have to work in the summer, here's a quick recap of my family beach vacation in Sea Isle City:

1) for several days, hundreds and hundreds of dolphins-- several pods?-- swam southward along the shore; at one point they were so close to the beach that the lifeguards had to pull everyone from the water . . . my father insisted they were porpoises but I took my cousin's paddleboard out to get a very close look, and they were definitely dolphins;

2) the AC broke in our condo, and it took five days to fix, so we spent a lot of time on the beach;

3) the day we took a break from the beach, we went to Stone Harbor and saw Ant-Man and-- shockingly-- it was very entertaining . . . Paul Rudd is charming and the special-effects and humor are somewhere between Honey I Shrunk the Kids and Iron Man . . . and nearly as entertaining as the film was the massive leak in the roof during the movie-- a huge thunderstorm rolled in during the opening minutes and all the people on the left side of the theater got soaked and there was a flood down the center aisle which we had to wade through when we left;

4) we really enjoyed eating at Hank Sauce, the restaurant named after the super-excellent hot sauce-- the pork tacos and the fish tacos were both excellent (and the sauce is the best);

5) I did not enjoy the lack of AC and wifi at Red White & Brew Coffee Shop;

6) while I was travelling from the Outer Banks to Sea Isle City-- twelve hours or cars, trains, taxis and buses-- Catherine and the boys saw a fisherman pull in a shark and a large stingray;

7) I nearly cried while carrying my cousin's paddleboard back to their beach house . . . that thing is heavy!

New Brunswick: Taco Trucks on Every Corner!

While I realize this is The Marco Gutierrez Nightmare, the town across the Raritan River from me--New Brunswick-- now has a thriving Hispanic population, and with that scene come the tacos and burritos and enchiladas and posole and mole Oaxaqueno and empanadas and chorizo . . . I could go on and on, but I'm already salivating; anyway, here are two recommended options, one upscale and one incredibly cheap:

1) for the best tamales in town-- and they only cost a buck and a quarter-- head to Punto Y Coma; it's on French Street right in the heart of Little Mexico, and you'll have to dust off your Spanish to order, but it's worth it . . . great tacos al pastor, too, in homemade corn tortillas;

2) for something fancier, if you're looking for a real night out, then head to Esquina Latina . . . this place has more of a weirdly lit dance-club lounge feel, but the sangria is amazing and the food is really good too . . . especially the empanadas, just don't pronounce them "empanyadas," or you'll sound like a rube (as I did).

The Last of the Tomatillos: A Narrative of 2019

This had better be the end of summer (not that threatening the Weather Gods has ever been successful or mentally healthy). I really tried to make the most of the hot weather over this  long weekend, but I'm done with it. I strung some lights on our porch, in anticipation of cool fall nights. I used up the final harvest from my wife's garden: I made green salsa and slow cooked pork and tomatillo tacos. Here's the recipe, it's an easy one (if you have a shitload of fresh tomatillos).

I took my son out to Sandy Hook today, to do some surfing. The waves weren't great, but the water was warm. The dog had a great time. We made it home for soccer practice and the turf was scorching hot. Tomorrow we have a game, and it's supposed to be 90 degrees. Thursday, the meteorologists say that fall is coming. I am ready for it. Enough fresh vegetables and hot weather, I'm primed for the mosquitoes and the ticks and the leaves to die. I'm fortified for cold barren dark days. I want the horde of cave crickets in the bike shed to freeze. I'd like some frost on the pumpkin, and some ice on the Raritan. One more day . . . that's all I can tolerate. One more day. You hear that, Weather Gods? One more day . . .

What's in the Box?

I've been out hiking with the dog and I get home and open the fridge and I spy a box . . . a box in a bag . . . a styrofoam container-- and what's inside? what could be inside? what sort of leftovers? Thai food? I can't remember . . . yes! . . . leftover al pastor tacos and rice from La Catrina in New Brunswick . . . and so my breakfast plan transformed from the usual greek yogurt and peanut butter to a plate of pork, pineapple, rice, fried eggs and a tortilla . . . and it was delicious.

Watch Your Language

Last week, during the annual Poetry Festival at my high school, acclaimed poet BJ Ward spoke to my creative writing class about being sensitive to language-- he deconstructed the Pledge of Allegiance and wondered why the students were required to repeat it every morning if it was actually a pledge . . . a serious promise that is eternal . . . e.g. I have pledged to eat more tacos in 2011-- and since his presentation, I have been more alert to the words around me; for example, I noticed a Watch Children sign in Ward's hometown of Edison, and I wondered why they couldn't add the preposition "for" into the statement . . . Watch For Children isn't as ominous and ambiguous Watch Children, which could be advice from one pedophile to another, or a paranoid warning from a wary old person.

This Meal Isn't Big Enough For The Both Of Us

I may have to duke it out with my five year old son at dinner, if my 2011 Taco Count is going to proceed unimpeded-- he ate three tacos Monday night, as did Catherine-- and there are only twelve in a packet, so I had to make do with a soft taco in order to eat a seventh . . . eventually our kitchen is going to be a two taco package town.

These Might Be The Best Sentences of 2011

Last year I introduced the "These Might Be The Best Sentences" feature, in which a completely biased and rather lazy judge (me) hastily attempts to choose the best sentences of the year . . . and though this year I am still just as biased and just as lazy, I am introducing a number of categories and a Grand Prize Winner to make this feature seem more dramatic and legitimate:

1) in the "Generating The Most Passionate Discussion" category-- all of it vitriolic and all of it directed towards me-- my "miraculous" sentence 'What Balls May Come?" earns a spot on the list;

2) the winner of the "Personal Revelation" category is "I Use Probability to Solve A Marital Mystery";

3) "I May Have Given These Words of Wisdom to My Students" wins the "Pithy Maxim" award;

4) "No Principles=Happiness" is the hands down winner in the "My Wife Is Just A Little Bit Insane" category;

5) The Mystery of the Year is "A Brief But Inconclusive Tale of a Tail";

6) we have a tie in the Best Idea of Dave category between "Dave's Second Best Idea Ever!" and "Peacock Tail= 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Tail Fin";

7) in the Best Idea of Dave That He Can't Remember Conceiving Due to the Influence of Alcohol category, the winner is this gem of a sentence;

8) in the When the Odds Are Against You, Make A Sperm Joke category, the winner is this inspirational tale;

9) in the For Once Dave Actually Deserves an Apology category we have a rather prolix masterpiece, entitled "The Potato Chip Incident";

10) Krystina's Best Idea Ever wins the Best Idea by Someone Other Than Dave;

11) The Most Awkward Moment of Dave is this hypothetical and unusual entry;

and the Overall Grand Prize Winning Sentence (and also the winner of the prestigious Sentence That Made T.J. Make the Same Comment Over and Over Award) is not a single sentence, but instead an over-arching category of sentences that thematically dominated Sentence of Dave in 2011 . . . the award goes to The 2011 Taco Count! (and my wife is making tacos tonight as an appetizer for the party we are attending, and so-- God willing-- I should eat my 200th taco of 2011 sometime this evening).

Bucket List: 1) Make a Bucket List

One of my students-- a senior-- recommended to the class that they make a "bucket list," and she reminded them that it didn't have to consist of extraordinary accomplishments and events (summit Mount Everest, win a Nobel prize, circumnavigate the globe, etc.) but could instead be fairly mundane (see the sun rise over the ocean before attending school) and then I polled the class and it turned out that about half the students had "bucket lists" of things they wanted to accomplish; I was in the no-bucket list group and I'm wondering if I should be concerned about this-- maybe I need to focus on some specific goals in order to achieve more in my life; I'd like to finish recording my album and I have some vague ideas for a sci-fi novel, perhaps if I put them on a bucket-list, then I'll work harder on them . . . but two things does not a list make, so I'll be taking suggestions for other things to put on this hypothetical list and then I will post it and then I will accomplish everything on the list . . . or maybe I won't (I did accomplish one specific goal a few years ago: I ate more tacos).

Some Predictions

My clairvoyance is well documented, so pay close attention to my Predictions for 2011: jeans will get even tighter, the accordion will NOT make a comeback,  the debate over how much a corporate entity can tranche a synthetic collateral debt obligation will bore people, Americans will forget about soccer until the next world cup, Leonardo DiCaprio will not make a screwball comedy, many people will go on diets, and I will eat more tacos.

What's in the Box?

I've been out hiking with the dog and I get home and open the fridge and I spy a box . . . a box in a bag . . . a styrofoam container-- and what's inside? what could be inside? what sort of leftovers? Thai food? I can't remember . . . yes! . . . leftover al pastor tacos and rice from La Catrina in New Brunswick . . . and so my breakfast plan transformed from the usual greek yogurt and peanut butter to a plate of pork, pineapple, rice, fried eggs and a tortilla . . . and it was delicious.

The Significance of #47

Having this blog has made it easy to keep track of the important things in my life, such as the number of tacos I ate in 2011 (200!) and the number of books I read in 2013 (22) and I am very proud to say that this year I more than doubled last year's book count (mainly because I read a lot of quick reads: crime-fiction and travelogues and slick non-fiction) and I just finished my fifth Don Winslow novel of the year (The Gentlemen's Hour . . . plenty of surfing, corruption, torture, and murder . . . plus some big Serial type issues, such as how the prosecution and police often "massage" eyewitness reports and confessions in order to get what they need for a conviction-- whether it's the right guy or not) and that's book number 47; for the entire list and my seven favorites, head over to Gheorghe: The Blog.