Is that a WORM in my quesadilla?

During my trip to the spa, Rio Caliente, we took a day trip to Guadalajara to go to the local Mercado and also to visit Tlaquepaque, a suburb of the main centre of Guadalajara, and a virtual haven for folk art and dining. It's a small town feel with long corridors of cobbled roads blocked off to traffic and behind each structural facade lies a courtyard full of artisanal works. The roads lead to the central square with a bandstand, a cathedral, and verdant grounds full of wrought iron decorative park benches. The shops for the most part carried high end items - crystal, large pieces of exquisitely made furniture and furnishings, 4 foot candles - but you could find smaller crafts to take home as souvenirs: I came away with two carved and painted dangling skeletons (in honour of Day of the Day) and three pressed tin decorative mirrors to hang on a wall.

The area is also known for its sidewalk cafes. I was with a group who chose to return to the restaurant they had visited the year before. We entered into the cavernous and colourful restaurant entrance and walked across a sunlit courtyard past the large fountain and iron table and chairs to a shady area under a bamboo woven roof where we sat around a large table. I've been anxious to find good Mexican, here in Toronto, there in Mexico, and I'm sad to report I'm still looking. The food was fairly awful. At the spa, I had been eating fruits, vegetables, and a few grains, for a week. When I saw the menu here at the restaurant I chose the Enchillada Verde thinking it would be a cheese enchillada in a green sauce. Nope. It was a plate full of chicken stuffed into corn tortillas and covered in melted cheese. Not only would I be blocked up for a week if I dared to eat any of it I feared I would throw up from the smell of that chicken. I cut into one of the rolls hoping to see something green and leafy inside but it was just grey meat and lots of it and the smell that emanated was like a dog who had crawled under a porch the summer before to die and noone found him until the spring thaw. I'm quite certain it was not chicken in those enchilladas. I had one bite and that was enough. Someone down at the other end of the offered to share her quesadillas. They were a starter and her main had arrived and so she passed down the two squares that were left on her plate. I took one bite. One measly bite. All I wanted was a simple bite of melted cheese topped with some fresh salsa to get me through the afternoon so I could return to the spa and eat more sprouts and papaya. I took the bite and looked at the quesadilla as I chewed. There sitting perfectly like it was taking a nap in a hammock was this damn larvae.

It's bigger and grosser in person. You can see the sections of its body and all its fine hairs. You can also see sets of about 18 pairs of legs. This was a detox week at the spa. Good food and no alcohol. The cheese, the chicken and the worm did me in. I leaned over and shouted down to the only woman in the group who had ordered alcohol. She had a marguerita. It was happy hour. One equals two. Everyone at the table quickly whisked that second glass of cold tequila down my way.

Comments

[Tachyon360]

Look at it this way: some in Mexico would call it a delicacy. :)

Perhaps you could try some chapulines next time you're down in Mexico.

[Shore]

Ew! Maybe it was a cultured worm. lOL.

[nicole cruz]

Yeah, i guess that's a cultured worm or something. :) Looks so cute and funny.

[Adrian pons]

Tried Milagro Resto on Mercer ? amazing mexican food there !