We sit in a booth at Jilqupan, Jackson’s latest ethnic eatery.
Two things make Jilqupan distinctive: the decor and the staff’s love for their native tongue, Spanish.
The decor is best described as “Early Schizophrenic.” The building, previously a Steak and Ale, remains decorated in a faux Tudor style, with low eaves, stained-glass windows, and pale stucco walls. The new owners, however, have replaced the flower beds and shrubs with stalks of green corn, rows of squash, and creeping tomato vines. Inside, the requisite sombreros and Mexican blankets hang right next to the last of the hunting prints and brass horns. It’s a strange thing to eat your fajitas, listen to Mexican Top 40, and gaze upon images of white Englishmen on horseback chasing a fox.
More authentic — and one reason I go back again and again — is the joy the staff takes in speaking Spanish. They greet you in their mother tongue, using body language like subtitles.
“Dos?” our server asks, holding up two fingers.
“Si,” I reply.
He pantomimes smoking, holding an imaginary cigarette between his fingers and fanning them in front of pursed lips. “Fumar? Pas fumar?”
“Pas fumar, gracias.”
Ignoring our dietary restrictions for the day, we dredge warm chips through a bowl of spicy cheese, awaiting the arrival of our soft tacos. As we wait, I eavesdrop on the action at a nearby table, where a kind-faced Grandpa lunches with his two cherubic grandchildren.
One of Jilqupan’s friendly young waiters appears. As he passes their table, he notes that Grandchild A’s glass is nearing empty. He pauses, points to the table, and asks, “Mas?”
Grandpa frowns. “What?”
The waiter smiles. “Mas. Mas means more. Mas Coke? More Coke?”
Shocking both the waiter and me, the old man curls his lip and bellows, “Just get the boy his damn Coke!”
The waiter’s smile falters. He lifts the glass and disappears.
“We’re in America,” Grandpa tells the kids. “People here oughta speak American.”
The boys nod, wide-eyed, soaking up the lessons the old man passes down.
Let’s plan to eat here!
“We’re in America,” Grandpa tells the kids. “People here oughta speak American.”
Where can I learn to speak American?