You’ll finish your third taco, wipe your mouth, and realize you have a little achiote stain on your shirt. That’s not a stain; that’s a badge of honor.
Suddenly, you’ll find yourself craving it at 2 AM after a night out. You’ll start noticing “Tacos Al Pastor” signs everywhere, like the universe is playing a delicious game of hide-and-seek with you.
You might even try to recreate it at home. And you will fail, because a kitchen doesn’t have that spinning spit, that street air, or the guy with the knife. But you’ll have fun trying.
So next time you see that spinning tower of red meat, just stop what you’re doing and order two. You’ll thank me later, and your taste buds will throw you a little party. Go on, you deserve it.
