Carnitas. Chunks of pork wrapped in a tortilla, a little onion and cilantro. Delicious. Delectable. Deadly. Within a couple of hours of chomping on a couple of the tacos, I was feeling a bit off. I didn’t sleep the whole night, as I felt worse. I tried to sleep in the spare room at first, then on the living room floor with my head hanging out the patio door. Fever had hit. But sunrise my carnitas had exited the way they had entered. It came as no surprise. A few hours later what wasn’t expelled forced an exit via the same route. Is this all too much information?
But the fever burned on, until late in the evening when my stubborn refusal to go to the doctor was beat. I waddled in, got checked over, had my 100+ temperature ummed and erred over and left with a prescription for several packets of pills. Bless the make of anti biotics. By morning the fever was gone.
The photo below is from the guilty establishment. I had taken it thinking of post about how I’ll miss the city’s taquerias. The ability to stop on almost any corner for a cheap feast. It didn’t work out like that. Right now the thought of carnitas has my stomach churning in a not good way. In fact anything in a tortilla makes me want to gag. Just as well this happened a couple of days before I leave, not a couple of days after I arrived. One thing is for sure. Whilst the Tres Coyotes taqueria has a long history and is very popular, it gets a serious thumbs down from me.