Neither rain nor snow... nor gloom... shall stay Pete from his appointed lunch rounds. The beauty of the snowy-white morning had already turned into the annoyance of the slushy-sidewalk afternoon--from pretty to shitty in Manhattan time--but Pete and Spaceman were craving a wintry mix of soup and tamales so they sloshed off to Rice on Elizabeth Street. Spaceman had the Mexican chicken soup--avocado, tomato, corn, rice, and cilantro--as well as the chicken mole and chicken tomatillo tamales; Pete had the tamales, too, but he opted out of the all-fowl lunch and instead had the caldo verde: a Portuguese spinach soup with potato and chorizo. The soup was good, especially after Pete doused it in hot sauce, and Pete's often disappointed in tamales--too dry, too much stringy mystery meat--but not this time. Rice's are moist, the meat doesn't taste like muppet, and they're served with a smooth, peppery sauce--the chicken mole tamale is Pete's clear favorite. Pete ended the meal with a cup of Jack's coffee and a chocolate cake donut from Balthazar Bakery. On the newly established LaCock Lunch-O-Meter, today's colorful meal gets seven and a half inches.
I'm wary of the Lunch-O-Meter. Will there be ranges, with single entendre descriptors?
ReplyDeleteIt's a random sliding scale; one person's seven and a half is another's six--just know that LaCock's lunch was pornographically good if it gets twelve.
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