Shouting "Andale! Arriba!" makes food taste more Mexican
It was a Friday afternoon, and Justine was going to be busy, so it was only the three of us.
I gave them two perfectly reasonable options: "We can go to the pool and eat the pulled pork I slow-cooked, or we can go to a park and eat at Chipotle."
Of course, like kids like to do, because their world has unbounded possibilities, they cherrypicked the best parts of each plan and countered, "Pool and Chipotle."
"Nope. We are not doing that."
After five minutes of haggling and realizing I was not getting anywhere with my daughters, I knew I needed to switch tactics.
"Okay, I have the best plan. But I'm not sure if you are ready for it. Are you ready for it?"
So after I hyped up my just-conceived Friday plan, my daughters perked up at the idea that there was something I didn't think they were ready for. "We are ready!!!"
"This afternoon we are going to go to five parks in a row. Okay? But there is one rule: when we get there, we run out of our car, we play for fifteen minutes. Then when the timer goes off, we run back to our car and drive to the next park. After that, we are going to go foraging, and then we are going to eat ethnic food."
"Deal?"
"Deal!!!" My daughters said excitedly.
"Which parks?" was the next question.
"I don't know. Which parks do you think?"
Then we listed a series of names we'd given to the parks instead of the official names.
The route was set: we were going to the orange park (the park by our house), then to the ballet park (the park by the City's rec center where they practice ballet, which is a Miracle League park). Then the blue park, which is in the same park development as the ballet park but away by a two-minute walk. Then park on park, which is a park on Park Avenue, and finally the library park, which is the park next to the library.
"Okay, the plan is set. Let's go!! Go!! Go!!" And we ran to the car.
We make it to the orange park, and we monkey around the structure, and exactly fifteen minutes later, I tell them we have to run to the car.
I'm surprised by myself at how well this plan is working out.
We get in the car, and we go from orange park to the ballet park.
We parked and got out, and there is no easy way to access the Miracle League park, so we ran to it.
It is a little more crowded than the previous one, but we still found a way to play even though we were inconvenienced by the sight of other humans.
It is time for blue park, which is still at Lucchesi Park but a two-minute walk away from the Miracle League park.
This park has two structures, and again, no one is here.
When the fifteen minutes were up, my daughters ran out of the park after me, bumped their heads, and started crying.
Exhaustion was setting in, and they were ready to move on to the next part of the plan that didn't involve parks.
So we moved to the next part of the plan: foraging and living off the land.
I could go to a farm on the edges of town and forage, but why do that when there is a Whole Foods smack in the middle of town?
Besides, my wife had entrusted me with a return on my way out of the house.
So we headed to our local Whole Foods to show the girls how you forage in the urban world.
We were greeted with a sample bowl of fresh cherries.
I tell the girls to start the foraging journey by grabbing one. Then we went into the store and returned Mommy's package.
Once that was out of the way, we came back to the bowl of cherries to keep foraging.
People were coming and going, and we just stood there, crushing cherries. When other patrons walked by, I would make a big show of telling my daughters, "Hey, just one and done!" While I had my hand outside the bowl and inside a nearby cherry bag, grabbing even more cherries.
"Stop it, you animals," I told my daughters. I grabbed another cherry.
Then we moved on to foraging for free blueberries.
We stacked as many blueberries as we could jam into the tiny toothpick. We did that several times before moving on to the strawberries and repeating the process.
Once we were done with the berries, we peeked around the dairy aisle, but there was no cheese to forage, which I found a little insulting since this town was built on the backs of dairy farms.
We continued to the bulk aisle, and I grabbed one rolled coconut date for each of us.
"Hey, Carlos, that's stealing."
No, it's not. I am not only a Prime member, but so is my wife because we can't seem to get it together to have one single account. We don't want our carts and wishlists commingling, and we will waste money to prove it.
I took three dates, and my Prime contract says I can get one every time I stop by—at least I think it does.
So, I only really stole one.
Then, I walked my daughters around the aisles asking them to notice the aromas and smells.
We were mostly smelling aluminum and plastic, but they were into it, so we did it until we found the exit. We didn't buy anything this trip.
On our way to our car, Amélie peeled off and started eating cherries again. And who am I to stop her from eating off the land?
Next up on our adventure docket was authentic Mexican food.
So I asked my daughters to choose between Tacos Don Pepe, a pop-up in Grand Central, El Roy's, a food truck by the library, or the taco stand at the back of El Pacifico Market.
They chose what they always choose: Chipotle. Which wasn't even on the list.
We headed to Chipotle, and we ordered their carnitas. I wanted them to have an intercultural experience, so I instructed them to shout at random intervals: "Carnitas!!" in the same tone that Speedy Gonzalez would shout: "Ándale! Ándale! Arriba! Arriba!"
It makes Mexican food taste more authentic, and that's what is needed to close a Friday afternoon of adventures in an urban jungle.
