They’ve gone and put a Mexican restaurant in the old Grandma’s Kitchen building in downtown Saltillo. My little old Saltillo, pop. 300, with no bank, no school, one gas station, and but one red light (which currently does not work) has a Mexican restaurant now. If the economy keeps tanking and I lose my job and have to move back in with my parents, I will at least be able to drown my sorrows in chips and white cheese dip.
The brothers who run El Potrillo are super nice, and sat down and talked with us while we stuffed our faces. My mom and grandmother asked them about their time in Mexico, how they got here, how and when they learned English, what the Mexican drug cartels are like, how the dating scene is in Saltillo (very bad), and so many more things that made me laugh loudly and uncomfortably.
I hope they get their liquor license by summer, because “drink margaritas on Main Street in Saltillo” has been on my bucket list way too long.