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Casa de Flor
For those of you that didn’t know, the title translates from Spanish as “House of Flowers” or “Flower House”. You may also ask yourself why it is a restaurant and not a flower shop. I don’t know who thought that was a good or sensible name for a restaurant. Oh well, more senseless things have occured. Bova, Arion, and I went there the other day, so let me fill you in on more details.
First of all, the hours are very odd. I believe that most of the days are from 11 AM to 3 PM. That’s a 4 hour open period. A bit strange. The Mexicans must be getting lazy. Anyway, we went inside. Our greeter, who later seemed to be one of the higher ups of the establishment, was very cute. To my disappointment, I saw later that she had a ring on that key finger. Another one bites the dust.
We were seated at a table in the middle of room, the perfect place for making comments so everyone else can hear. The atmosphere was generally pretty good. The walls were adobesque, the ceiling was mostly painted blue (though you could see the tilage), and they had festive decorations with a big gate that had the ridiculous name of the restaurant on it. The visual surroundings were well complemented by the Mexican/Spanish music playing in the background, though I must say I find it odd hearing jazz chords in Mexican music. I heard 7#5s or something. There was also a decent-sized bar to perpetuate the stereotypical drunken Mexican. I’m not sure if they serve tequila, though I was tempted to find out. I should have had Arion check, though I’m sure I could’ve asked without trouble. What threw me a bit off was that the tiles over the bar were not blue, but Office White. There were also 3 white tiles off to one side of the room. I hope those weren’t suppose to be clouds. Regardless, we were whisked away from northern New York and taken to a place much further south. Unfortunately, this is the only thing attempting to justify the prices.
The menu was very small. There were about 5 appetiziers, 10 main meals, and a few desserts. They do have a children’s menu though… an American children’s menu. It’s like they’re saying that Americans are children. While I can’t totally refute that, I will impose that working Americans tend to work more than 4 hours a day.
There were a mix of caucasians and Mexican-looking people working there. Our waitress, who looked Mexican, knew Bova from school. Well, so much for her authenticity. There was a bigger lady who was doing some waitressing who may have been Mexican. She was boisterously singing along with the Mexican music very well in terms of the language. I think she may be a cook and probably also the DJ, according to an obversation by Bova.
I got a chimichanga for an appetizer and spinach and mushroom enchilada for my main. I also asked for iced tea, which turned out to be the good ol’ fashioned Mexican tradition of sweetened Nestea. Oh fucking joy. This is when I started getting ticked.
We sat and chatted/bitched for a while and then the appetizers arrived. The chimichanga looked great on the outside. I took a big bite and lo’ and behold, the innards of the chimichanga consisted of only hamburger. That’s right, just plain hambuger. It wasn’t even taco-flavored hamburger or anything. It was a god damned $5 Mexican hamburger. If I wasn’t so hungry and heavily against wasting food, I would’ve tossed it at a wall or maybe those irregularly colored ceiling tiles. My only compensation, other than loving hamburger anyway, was a little mexican flag that came stuck in it. I still have it… somewhere. Maybe it wasn’t as much for my troubles as I originally thought. The flag was amusing at the time because in the car before we went to the restaurant, we were discussing Arion’s creative fast-food joint, UN Burger. I had mentioned how they would have burgers from different countries (supposedly) and they would have a little flag stuck in them of the country that the burger was from as well as the American flag, because they would do that sort of thing. This made the flag neat, but it still loomed in the shadow of the shitichanga.
The enchilada was good, though not worth the amount I payed for it, $8 or something. It came with rice and refried beans on the side. The rice was sweet and I didn’t care much for it. They brought out sour cream and guacamole, both in South of the Border classic plastic cups you get from your local pizza and wingery. The guacamole was too cold for my taste which also alternated the texture of it. Bova and Arion didn’t finish their meals. Pussies.
All in all, the amtosphere was pretty well done, though it was lacking in the area I believe most essential to a restaurant: food. I was happy to receive my change consisting of three $1 dollar bills having an “E”, a “G”, and a “B” on them. For those of you that don’t get it, those are the notes of an E minor chord or Em. I’m a music nerd, so things like this boost my spirits. The atmosphere thing really didn’t hit us until we left the building. We were honestly surprised to step out into cold winds and snow-filled streets. It was a bit of a downer. I’m pretty sure we agreed to never go there again. Just in case, I’m starting a Non-Casa de Flor Pact right now. Leave a comment to enter into the pact.
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© Copyright 2005-2007 Arion Londraville, Arison Londraville, David Bova, Josh Allen, Brett Ramus.