So, I’m in Butler, New Jersey, about an hour early for an appearance at Soul Journey … one of the friendliest, best-stocked metaphysical stores anywhere.
I check in with Sandi, the owner, and she suggests (since I missed lunch) that I walk next door to the Mexican restaurant. She mentions the pizza place across the street and the Chinese wok down the block — independent local places, all. Still, there’s something in her voice when she mentions the Mexicans … and so, next door I go.
As it turns out, the shop, located in a couple of converted storefronts, doubles as a Mexican grocery. Just inside the door, alongside the drink cooler, sits a small refrigerated case of fresh produce. In front of the counter sit two young women, eating a pizza from the place across the street.
I briefly wonder if Sandi’s pulling my leg by sending me to a restaurant so ill-appointed its staff makes a habit of eating elsewhere … especially since I appear to be the only patron in the place.
Once seated, I order nachos and a chicken burrito. The response to my order shocks me: the woman behind the produce counter nods, snatches up fresh tomatoes, chilies, onions, and avocadoes from the glass case, and proceeds to dice these just-off-the-vine ingredients into some of the finest salsa I’ve ever eaten.
The chicken burritos — just seven bucks — arrive next. A mild tomatillo sauce smothers the thick, bready tortillas. Inside: piping hot shredded chicken, chopped fresh veggies, and Mexican rice. Pure heaven … and far, far more than I can eat. No exaggeration: these burritos must weight a pound apiece!
As I leave, Sandi spies me coming out of the Mexican place. She’s casual about it. “So how was dinner?”
Best. Mexican. Food. Ever.
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