Last Thursdays at Worth Street was delicious. The theme: A touch of Mexico, which is exactly what we were craving for. Mexico had just won the game against the French in the World Cup, and it was time to celebrate, and what better way but to attempt beating them once again only this time, we would challenge them in the kitchen!
The invitees came with a touch of Mexico as well, besides having over a couple who were originally from Colombia and Venezuela, we had invited a good friend of Felipe’s from Mexico. He had brought with him yet another crucial touch of Mexico, the big guy, the dangerous one, a bottle of Patron.
Guests, check!
Food, check!
Alcohol, check! We were ready to go.
But “the touch of Mexico” didn’t really arrive until later, our Mexican friend as usual, and like a good NY banker, was working late. So for all of us who were already there, our night began with wine and conversations around the kitchen counter, Felipe cooking and me, pretending to peel a mango. Our friends were telling us about their trip to Colombia, it was the very first time they had gone as a couple, and the very first time she had visited his home country. From their trip, she had brought back a really interesting theory: Can the success of a country be based on the love its own people have towards it? What she loved the most about her trip to Colombia was to see the gratitude, faith, love and respect Colombians had towards their own country. Maybe it was the glass of wine, or the beer she had earlier on during a business lunch, but before she knew it the sentiment had taken over. Soon enough she felt a deep desire for Venezuelans to be able to love their own country in that same way so that her country could begin healing and recovering.
We heard the door knock three times, the touch of Mexico had arrived! And right off the bat, our friends called out the “banker” in him. I, personally called out “the nerd” in him. The guy had pretty much memorized the blog beforehand. And like a good student, was using language and words from it so that we would know he had done his homework. Ok, so the guy is really not that bad, and his banking mannerisms wore off soon after we cracked open the bottle of Tequila.
We talked more, about advertising and Obama. About BP and our dependence on oil. We talked about girls, or “touch of Mexico” and his now empty bottle talked about girls, and most importantly, we ate extraordinarily and drank some excellent tequila. No matter where this project takes us, if it guarantees us nights like this last one every week, then I gotta say, I put my cards on the table and call all in.
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