The other day my book group pointed out that I hated everything. Tonight though, no one would have liked the meal we had at Barrio. Let me start by saying the place is a bit charmless. Its right on a somewhat busy corner with a relatively small sidewalk between the tables and the street. They play occasionally obnoxious music and our waiter obviously had a grudge against us:)
I had heard good things about the menu and liked the owners' other restaurant, Calle Ocho, so we headed down there to get away from the Olympics. The watermelon mint margaritas tasted like curdled liquid cotton candy, the guacamole tasted like wall paste with diced jalapenos on top, and my ceviche had the strangest taste like BBQ Sauce. Peter deemed his enchiladas "good" and my salad, the Barrio Salad, was lettuce, kidney beans, carrots, and a dressing that tasted a bit like when you sweat after you've eaten too much garlic.
I actually walked out of the place feeling a bit nauseous. So, we probably won't be going back there.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment