Ask and you shall receive. Sometimes if you only asked in a blog post.

My plea for authentic cultural cuisine was met.

Literally the next day I was invited to Villa del Mar with two of my favorite people.
They were lauding chicken gorditas and mega-boozy margaritas at reasonable prices.  I was sold already.

Villa del Mar is a Mexican restaurant next to the Rent-N-Roll on High Point Rd in Greensboro, NC.  If you are not familiar with Rent-N-Roll, its a place for those who can't afford to buy unnecessary over-sized rims for their Toyota Camry so they RENT THEM.  YOU CAN RENT RIMS FOR YOUR CAR.  hah.
Anyway, I just wanted to offer a scene.
Outside there was a bench where a vagrant was giving us the evil eye and drooling at us at the same time.  I knew I was in for something good.

The place was packed; mostly Mexican families, a few African-american families, and us: three squirrelly looking tattooed freaks looking for some margaritas.

No one spoke English.  I was so excited.
There were bells at every table with a sticky note saying "Llame para servicio".  There was vaquero memorabilia, paper-mache parrots and silk flowers everywhere.  There was a sign above the register with a gun on it that said "We Don't Call 911".

When we were finally seated, I got to peruse the menu.

They had some staples of American Mexican restaurants: the monster burritos, the nachos with seasoned beef and shredded cheese.  Then you flip to the back of the menu.

You could chose your style of meal (gordita, sope, taco, etc.) then chose your meat.  It took me twenty minutes to chose my meats.  They offer carne asada with pineapple, slow-roasted goat, beef head, beef tongue, tripas (!!!!), chicken a thousand different ways and pork.  I know I am missing some options.  I nearly started crying when I say my options.  This is exactly what I wanted.  This is exactly what people should want when wanting an authentic Mexican food experience.  They let you pick and chose the things you want to try without committing to something that you may not entirely like.  If I had had the money, I would've tried it all.

After giving you your meal, they bring a tin bucket with three different hot sauces.  Three bottles that were red, yellow and green.  I assumed, since nothing was labelled, that green was mild, yellow would be sort of a medium and red would be a little too much.  Yellow, my choice, was a habanero sauce that made me cry.  Future reference: red is where its at.

And their prices were impossibly reasonable.
I had a margarita, 1 goat sope and 1 carne asada sope for 9 dollars total.  And I was stuffed.

Villa del Mar is a gem; a diamond in the smell rough of Greensboro.  It feels like a very well-kept secret.
I was met with something truly authentic in my little southern town and I was not disappointed.
I would recommend this restaurant to anyone who likes Mexican food, doesn't mind lax service and is willing to try new things.
Also, to people who don't mind a vagrant begging for scraps inside the restaurant while you are still eating.

Poor Man's Dinner Tip #1

In this bustling world of too much good food and no money in my wallet, I have come up with some at home, easy tips to make me feel a little less hopelessly poor.  Hopefully you can use these tips to ease the economic blow to you take-out chinese in-take.

Tonight, en lieu of actually going to find Caribbean food, I made myself dinner.

I sliced two yellow onions (@ $2.43/bag of 8) and browned them in olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic powder, Cavender's Greek seasoning blend (all shit I had lying around) and threw the mess into some leftover spaghetti sauce that my roommate/boyfriend/bestfriend/chef extraordinaire made last night.

BOOM.

Onions = flavorful and interesting pasta substitute.

And damn, its good.

Intros and No Caribbean Food in My Mouth Right Now

I have lived in Greensboro, NC, for around five years.

I spent the first fifteen years of my life in the culturally rich, ultimately ridiculous, sun-baked Broward County, FL.  From a very latch-key upbringing in a very lower middle-class neighborhood a mile from the Atlantic, I was exposed to things that people in my current area just can't appreciate.  I grew up surrounded by reggae, Haitian and Cuban cuisine, voodoo and neighborhood cat abductions, Latin invasion, and Caribbean influence; I also grew up going to goth and heavy metal clubs.  My first two CD's I owned in fourth grade were the Prodigy's "Fat of the Land" and the Miami Sound Machine's "Cuts Both Ways".  

When riding the public bus to the surf shop when I was 10, a crackhead drooled on me and asked if I had a cigarette. 

Mine and my brother's favorite pastry is Brazilian and is stuffed with meat.  I can't spell it, but it sounds something like this: Gojeena.  I think there is an 'X' in there somewhere.  

I first ate alligator and frog on a school trip to an Indian Reservation in the Everglades when I was in Elementary school.  We spent the day literally wading through the world's largest swamp up to our belly buttons because we were told 'that's how they used to do it' by a white native who called himself Chakateekee.

Very long story cut short (tl;dr): I was lucky to have a very culturally diverse and eye-opening childhood.

Greensboro is trying to do something.  The city doesn't have a clear enough direction.  A place like this thrives on artisan pizza places and craft beers.  Any authentic cultural restaurant I have experienced cannot stand on its own without having to Americanize its menu to death or just flat out going out of business.  Aside from places like India Palace on Tate St. who play the same Indian awards show on their TVs every time I go in there.  They are an institution at this point.

I was genuinely excited the first time I went to Jibaro.  Jibaro, for those who don't remember, occupied that awkward space on Tate St across Walker Ave from the dynasty that is NY Pizza. Jibaro was an authentic Caribbean establishment that didn't serve their sandwiches with bread.  They created godlike pork and chicken sandwiches with giant, salty plantain bread-substitutes.  This was five years ago, so I can't get into exact sandwich details, but I left with memories of childhood food truck meals.  I tried to go back a week later and it had gone out of business.

A few years later I moved to Glenwood.  The swift car door-lockings, condom wrappers on the sidewalks and shoes hanging from telephone wires reminded me of my neighborhood growing up.  And then I heard about Da Reggae Cafe.  Reasonably priced strip mall Jamaican and Caribbean food.  I was curious.  There was a sweepstakes two doors down in the strip mall.  They sold me everything I could have possibly wanted.  The first time I went I think I ate 3 Jamaican patties, once beef, one goat and one pork.  The second time I had curried goat with potatoes and plantains.  The third time I tried to go UNCG had bought the land and was in the process of knocking Da Reggae Cafe down, along with the sweepstakes next door.

Yeah.  I was upset.

From my experience, people in this area are afraid to try new things like Caribbean cuisine or real authentic things that haven't been overly Americanized.  The hopeful cultural ambassadors try to express their culinary differences and are instead pallbearers of restaurants past.

This was supposed to be a blog post about the actual culture I am experiencing living in Greensboro and eventually about visual art.  I am hungry so there was a long rant about how I want Caribbean food right now and I won't be able to find any, blah blah blah.