The Other Tea Pot Dome

I was probably around five years old when I first became familiar with Tea Pot Dome, a small rural highway junction in southwestern Michigan.  This was long before I had ever heard of the infamous government scandal beginning in May 1921.  Before the Watergate scandal in the mid 1970s, Teapot Dome was considered to be the greatest scandal in the history of American politics.

Teapot Dome is the prominent butte situated in the Salt Creek oil field north of Casper, Wyoming where oil was first struck in 1889.  It soon became one of the most productive oil strikes in the western United States.  By 1915, a portion of the Salt Creek field (often referred to as Salt Creek Dome and Teapot Dome because of a nearby landmark) was designated a Naval Petroleum Reserve, a federally controlled  oil resource.

The scandal involved Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall, in the cabinet of President Warren G. Harding (1921-1923), and Secretary of the Navy Edwin C. Denby.  Harding appointed Fall as Interior Secretary in March 1921 and shortly thereafter Harding signed an executive order approving Denby’s request to transfer control of the naval oil reserves at Teapot Dome from the Department of the Navy to the Department of Interior.  Fall then proceeded to grant friends in the oil business exclusive rights to drill for oil on this federal land and to control government oil reserves without open bidding; this in exchange for over $400,000 in personal loans and gifts which he used, in part, to expand and improve his New Mexico ranch.

The Wall Street Journal made public these illegal transactions in April 1922.  Following Harding’s death in office in August 1923, Wisconsin Senator Robert M. La Follette urged the Senate to launch an investigation into the oil leases and Fall's actions.  The Senate Committee on Lands and Public Surveys conducted an inquiry and concluded in 1924 that the Teapot Dome leases had been fraudulent and corrupt.  Both Denby and Fall were forced to resign from office as a result.  Fall was convicted in 1929 of accepting bribes becoming the first US cabinet member to be to be found guilty and imprisoned for crimes committed while in office.  He spent one year behind bars.  The Teapot Dome scandal outraged Americans shocked by this unprecedented level of corruption within the federal government and President Harding’s early popularity quickly eroded to the point that he is now considered one of this country’s worse leaders.   

I knew nothing of this major scandal at age five.  For me, Tea Pot Dome was a rural highway junction in Van Buren County Michigan, a landmark as my family drove the 20 miles separating my maternal grandparents’ farm near Paw Paw, and my paternal grandparents’ home in Decatur.  Today it is located at the T-junction of M-51, a 41-mile north–south state trunkline highway extending to  the Michigan–Indiana state line near South Bend, and the Red Arrow Highway.  This east-west route was originally Michigan Highway M-117 until 1926 when it was designated the former US Route 12 in Michigan.  In 1952, segments of this highway in Berrien and Van Buren counties were dedicated in honor of 32nd Infantry Division of the United States Army formed from Army National Guard units from Michigan and Wisconsin which fought primarily in the two World Wars. A red arrow was the divisional insignia and it became popularly known as the Red Arrow Division.  Until 1960, when Interstate 94 was completed across Michigan, it served as the main route between Detroit and Chicago and the highway we always took when we visited from our home in Illinois and later in Wisconsin.  I should note that Michigan became the first state to complete a border-to-border toll-free Interstate highway extending for 205 miles thereby creating the longest toll-free freeway in the United States at the time.

The relatively short distance between the farm and Decatur did not seem so to a young boy sitting in the back seat anxious to get to where he was going.  Since Tea Pot Dome was approximately half way, I was always on the lookout for the junction’s blinking light and the adjacent small black concrete building with a large white tea pot painted on its sides.  Then I would know we were half way to where we were headed.  I thought the name funny, but I never though about its significance until years later when I first learned about the Wyoming scandal.  Even then, I thought it a rather curious point of reference for a rural highway junction in Michigan and I began to wonder if it had anything to do with those events in Wyoming decades earlier.

Just recently, while conducting genealogical research on my Michigan ancestors, I once again began to consider the significance of the reference.  Doing some research into the subject I quickly ran across a recording of a program aired on National Public Radio’s Western Michigan University affiliate WMUK in Kalamazoo a few years ago.  “Why’s That” was a short broadcast telling little known stories about southwestern Michigan.  There had been an inquiry into the origin of the Tea Pot Dome junction near Paw Paw and WMUK had done the groundwork to solve the mystery.  Today there is a familiar green and white highway sign a short distance from the junction (it was not there during my early visits to the area), and the inquirer had wondered if it had some geographic significance.  He did not think this the case; there was nothing else in the area to suggest this.  The area is not incorporated nor does it show up as such on the Van Buren County plat maps.  So does it have something to with the infamous political scandal almost a century ago?   As it turns out, it does.

The story begins in the early 1920s when a Chicagoan by the name of Chris Henderson  left the city on the advice of his doctor and moved to southwestern Michigan, settling with his wife on Lake Cora, just a short distance from the junction.  There he opened the Chris Henderson Service Station providing Texaco gasoline and oil to travelers on the old M-117 between Chicago and Detroit.  And so it remained until the late summer of 1924.  WMUK managed to track down Henderson’s granddaughter in nearby Lawrence, Michigan for the rest of the story.  She told WMUK that she had always heard how her grandfather was discussing the Teapot Dome scandal with a friend that year when the scandal was getting a great deal of press coverage.  They both thought it would be an interesting and catchy name for Henderson’s business.  She did not think her grandfather was trying to make a political statement when he renamed his service station Tea Pot Dome (three words instead of two).  The name stuck and soon her grandmother opened the small Tea Pot Dome restaurant.  Add to this a collection of tourist cottages, a farmers market and baseball field and Tea Pot Dome began to show up on some maps of Michigan although it remains unincorporated.  A roller rink was added some time

in the 1930s and my mother has told me stories of going there with friends to skate and for dances while my father was serving overseas during the war.   Gone today are the service station, the cottages, and the roller rink, but the junction has an official highway sign and the restaurant is still serving food almost a century later.  

As it turns out, Henderson was not the only individual to associate his service station to contemporaneous events in the Wyoming oil fields.  In 1927, a Dutch immigrant moved to Pentwater, Michigan some 120 miles north of Paw Paw on the shores of Lake Michigan and established a Sinclair Oil service station on Main Street (US Route 31).  He later added a store which together he called Teapot Dome (two words instead of three).  His stepdaughter later told the local historical association that the station and store were named after the famous scandal.  This establishment operated until the mid 1950s when the owner died and the business was sold.   It later operated as a restaurant.   I can’t help but wonder whether the original owner may have passed through the junction to the south on his way to Pentwater and found the name catchy.   I guess we will never know. 

Vienna Sausage - A Mystery Encased in an Enigma

During a radio broadcast in October 1939, shortly after the outbreak of World War II, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill described the interests and intentions of Soviet Russia as “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.”  This would be my response if I were asked to describe the meat product we know in this country as Vienna Sausage.  Is it really a sausage, and if so, did it originally come from Vienna?

During my first trip to Europe in 1968, and during my student days in Freiburg a few years later, I began a life-long enjoyment of genuine German sausages.

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But this was not always the case.  In my younger days “sausage” meant one of two things; what we commonly call “breakfast sausage” (links or patties) and, of course, Vienna Sausage, those little meat tubes packed into a round can with aspic and sold here in North America.  But I am getting ahead of myself.

Let us first consider the sausage indigenous to Vienna, the capital of Austria.  Wiener Wurst, or its diminutive Würstchen or Würstle - is essentially a long, thin sausage traditionally containing pork and beef encased in sheep intestine and then parboiled  and/or smoked at a low temperature.  Today they are also frequently produced using spiced ham in a very light, edible casing produced from collagen and cellulose.  A first impression is that they look very much like what we refer to as a hot dog as they are traditionally served on a bun with condiments.  In fact, this is were we get the term “wiener” as another name for the traditional American hot dog.  

The “wiener” such as we know it today, originated not in Vienna but in Frankfurt, Germany and the very beginning of the 19th century.  Johann Georg Lahner (1772–1845), a son of a Swiss farmer and a butcher trained in Frankfurt, began in 1805 to produce boiled sausages from a mixture of pork and beef.  At first he referred to his combinations as a "Lahner Würstle," but later simply call them “Frankfurter" to commemorate where he learned the art of butchering.  He eventually ended up in Vienna where these sausage quickly became a delicacy which over time became know as Weiner Würstchen, using the diminutive as they were smaller and thinner than other locally produced sausages.  They continue to be sold in Germany as a “Frankfurter” which is yet another term used for the hot dog in this country. 

So how did what we know today as Vienna Sausage in this country come to be?  Is it a sausage originally from Vienna, or is it something more akin to the sausage Lahner produced in Frankfurt before moving to Vienna.  It is a story that remains a mystery within an enigma.  Surely the basic idea arrived in this country with European immigrants.  Perhaps it is only an urban myth, but its origin is frequently attributed to an Archibald K. Wortham who was born in Vienna, Austria and who traveled to this country in the early 20th century.  He worked in a tin-can factory outside Baltimore, and then spent the rest of his life in Vienna, Virginia, outside of Washington, DC.  As early as 1903, "Vienna sausage" came to mean only short smoked and canned wieners.  So I guess the question is . . . are these sausages named after the Vienna in Austria or the town in northern Virginia?   I have been to Vienna many times and I can assure you that I never encountered any concoction closely resembling the small, pasty fingerlings of whatever we call Vienna Sausage.  And what became of Mr. Wortham?  He is buried in Forest Hill Cemetery in Memphis and his grave is marked by a stone in the shape of a Vienna Sausage.   Every year on July 19, his birthday, fans of the mystery meat leaves empty cans on his grave as a tribute.   

Today Vienna Sausage is produced much like hot dogs.  Meat is finely ground to the consistency of paste to which salt, herbs and spices, and chemical preservatives are added.   The mixture was then stuffed into a thin synthetic casing and then thoroughly cooked, cut to size, and canned in a gelatin similar to aspic.  Eventually the casing was abandoned in the 1950s.  They are ready to eat and can also be used in recipes like any other sausage.  Still there is no mistaking them for other types of sausages.  They are distinct in shape and size..

Consumption of Vienna sausages peaked in this country in the 1970s, but has steadily declined since then.   Still, it is not rare to find cans stocked away in the pantry along with SPAM, deviled ham and various potted meats.  This is not to say that Vienna Sausage was not a favorite snack food when I was young, but we often tend to outgrow such hankerings.  But not always.  Even today as I watch my wife make a Vienna sausage sandwich I know I will be the beneficiary of the two or three she will not need which I then eat right out of the can with a dash of mustard. 

As I write this I am reminded of the TV series Bosch and a scene during which a murder suspect on the lam in an abandoned mountain cabin outside LA looks for something to eat and finds a can of Vienna Sausage.  Trying to open it (this was before the easy to open tin was introduced) he becomes frustrated and throws it across the room, draws a large handgun, and in a fit of rage threatens to shoot it.   But he doesn’t.  He eventually opens the can and fishes the meaty tubes from their gelatinous reservoir with his fingers and eats them with relish.  Such is the love-hate duality they evoke.

I also remember reading a couple years ago about a Louisiana man ending up in jail charged with aggravated second-degree battery as a result of a tussle involving  Vienna Sausage.  A neighbor allegedly approached the man, who was confined to a wheelchair, and asked for one of his sausages.  When he refused, the neighbor allegedly struck the man who then pulled a knife.  The neighbor ended up with a cut on the nose and the man’s bond was set at $25,000.  You can buy a lot of Vienna Sausage with that kind of money.

So now you know the rest of the story.   You are welcome!

Another Foodie Ramble Through Montreal

Throughout this pandemic I have become quite the armchair gourmand, recalling past memorable locales and meals with the hope that I will be able to return to them in person for yet another culinary adventure.

A few weeks ago I posted “Following My Stomach Around Montréal” (March 13, 2021)

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It was difficult to decide what to include; there is so much to choose from in this most unique of North American cities.  Since that posting, the late Anthony Bourdain’s World Travel: An Irrelevant Guide (with Nancy Woolever) has been published by Ecco Press.  Montréal held a special place in Bourdain’s heart and it was the focus of several episodes of his various television projects.  “The people who live there are tough, crazy bastards, and I admire them for it.”  And the best reason to visit the city?   The food!!  I can only say “amen” to that.

I have visited three of the four venues mentioned in Bourdain’s section on Montréal, and two of them - Schwartz’s Hebrew Deli and Marc Picard’s Au Pied du Couchon - are highlighted in my previous posting.  “I don’t really know what Montréal is like for normal people  What I can tell you is that, for chefs, it’s notoriously a very dangerous place.”  Bourdain was richly wined and dined during his visits and knew of what he speaks.  “Montréal is a chef town.  It’s a stay-up-late-and-have-a-good-time town . . . yet always with panache.”

So I have decided to take another vicarious day ramble through one my own favorite cities to sample some other favorite locales that did not make the first cut . . . simply for the fact that Montréal is a city of culinary riches.  And I may have to do this again at some future point in time.  It is a tribute to all Montréal has to offer to one in search of something tasty to eat and drink.  

This time I am limiting myself to my favorite part of the city . . . the borough of Le Plateau-Mont Royal and its Plateau and Mile End neighborhoods northeast of downtown.  What’s not to like about these bohemian neighborhoods with their brightly colored shops and residences; and the book shops, galleries, boutiques, music venues, and to top it off, a wide variety of eateries, sidewalk cafes, and watering holes to please everyone’s palate.  The streets are always crowded and one can sense the heartbeat of the city.  These are certainly among the hippest neighborhoods in North America in my humble opinion. 

So where to begin?  There are so many possibilities  I have never been much for a heavy breakfast and so I am happy to score some good coffee and a pastry or bagel.  I select Café Iso at 251, Avenue Duluth Est (at the corner of rue Laval).   After an early coffee upon rising for the day, I wander here for something a little more substantial.  I select a cappuccino and a bagel déjeuner – a fried egg, cheddar, bacon, lettuce, tomato, with mayo épicé.  There are lots of windows and it is a perfect spot to watch the city come alive while thumbing through Le Journal de Montréal. 

After breakfast it is a short walk over to Boulevard Saint-Laurent - Le Main - for a slow ramble through Montréal’s historic Jewish quarter.  The Museum of Jewish Montréal is situated at the corner of Saint-Laurent and Duluth and it tells the rich story of the community.  This neighborhood was at one time the home of Mordecai Richler (1931-2001) whose novels are frequently set here, Leonard Cohen (1934-

2016), Saul Bellows (1915-2005) who later lived and wrote in my home neighborhood of Humboldt Park in Chicago, William Shatner, and many others.  Adam Gopnik, the American-born essayist and staff writer for The New Yorker, was raised here and attended McGill University.  On my route I pass by two iconic establishment - Schwartz’s Hebrew Deli and Main Deli across the street, both of them known far and wide for their smoked meats.  I featured Schwartz’s for lunch in my earlier Montréal ramble.

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Parc des Ameriques at the corner of rue Rachel Est is a pleasant spot to sit and rest and gather one’s thoughts, or to read for awhile in the shade of its many trees.  A couple blocks further on is Parc du Portugal and Leonard Cohen’s former home just across the street at 28, Rue Vallières.   This is the heart

of the Greek and Portuguese communities.  Continuing north I pass into the Mile End neighborhood which was the main Jewish neighborhood until the mid 20th century.  There is still a Hasidic Jewish presence although this has undergone gentrification over the past 30 years and it has not remained as bohemian as Le Plateau. 

What better place to head for a light lunch than Wilensky’s at 34, Avenue Fairmount Ouest (at the corner of rue Clark).  A landmark in the Mile End neighborhood since 1932, it was originally located at the corner of rue Saint-Urbain and Avenue Fairmont.  It has been at its present location since 1952 and has changed very little in the intervening seven decades.  Still owned and operated by the Wilensky family, it was originally known as Wilensky’s Light Lunch, but it dropped the English in response to Québec’s Official Language Act of 1974 and the subsequent Charter of the French Language (also known as Bill 101) in 1977 which mandated French as the only language for advertising and education in the province.  But the food is still the same no matter what language you order it.   And there is only one thing to order . . . the Wilensky Special / Spécial Wilensky® . . . and you can’t go wrong.  It

consists of slices of grilled all beef salami and baloney on a Kaiser roll which is then heat pressed on the original 70 year old press.  It is served piping hot with a swipe of mustard (always!!), a pickle wedge, and a house prepared cherry soda.  They also serve hot dogs on an open face roll and fried egg sandwiches.   The famous and the infamous have been coming here for almost 89 years and it seems everyone come for the Special.  Mordecai Richler was a regular patron and Wilensky’s is mentioned in two of his novels – The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (1959 - it was also featured in the 1974 film based on the novel starring Richard Dreyfuss) and Solomon Gursky Was Here (1989).

It seems a shame if a foodie’s ramble through Montréal should not include a sampling of its rich ethnic offerings.  This time I return to Le Plateau and 73, Avenue Duluth Est and Au Coin Berbère, a restaurant specializing in North-African cuisine.  This street has long been known for its eclectic ethnic

foods and one can certainly not go wrong here.  Rarely have I enjoyed ethnic food in Au Coin Berbère’s opulent setting.  This restaurant does not serve alcohol but one is welcome to bring a beverage of choice.  I select a wonderful Cinsaut-Syrah blend from Tunisia and it turns out to be an excellent choice.  I have eaten rather lightly during the day in order to pull out the stops at dinner.  I begin with a bowl of chorba, a traditional soup with bulgur and spiced with coriander accompanied by a small bowl of kalamata olives drizzled with cumin-infused olive oil.  Everything smells just as good as it tastes.  I

make sure I leave plenty of room for the entree with is served with a light fine-grain couscous exuding a faint aroma of anise.  Entrees include lamb, beef, Merguez sausage, and mechoui (lamb roast) but this evening I choose the couscous au lapin du Québec (a savory portion of local rabbit).   This is certainly a place I will return to.   There is so much on the menu too tempting to ignore.  

After a full day wandering these two marvelous neighborhoods it is time to return to Mile End for a nightcap at Dieu du Ciel, a popular brewpub for the past 20+ years at 29, Avenue Laurier Ouest.   It has a generous selection of brews and I order a couple pints of the Kilomètre Zéro, a light IPA, to settle the day’s dust as I reflect on all that I had enjoyed while dreaming of where my next ramble might take me.  I will never tire of wandering Montréal in search of good places to eat and drink.  

It’s Miller Time!

At home in Wisconsin the refrigerator was always well stocked with the Milwaukee trinity - Schlitz, Miller, and Pabst Blue Ribbon.  This was a time before artisnal and micro-brews captured the beer market nationwide.  My parents always seemed to favor Schlitz or Miller while I was (and still am) a PBR man. 

I like PBR, the “American Style Premium Lager” that I cut my beer drinking teeth on. I was living just outside of Milwaukee the year I reached legal drinking age, and the rest is history.  A couple of years later I was back in Milwaukee for the summer and I worked a night shift. The group I worked with would often get off work at the end of the week to have breakfast at a local IHOP before heading downtown to the Pabst brewery for a tour and “brunch” in the tasting room.  PBR was also our beer of choice when we went to see the Brewers play in the Old County Stadium. PBR and I go way back!   And I still drink it even though it is no longer brewed in Milwaukee.  

Schlitz was supposedly “the beer that made Milwaukee famous” and we were told that “when you are out of Schlitz, you are out of beer.”  It was largest producer of beer in the United States throughout much of the 20th century until it went defunct in 1999, selling most of its assets to the Pabst Brewing Company now based in San Antonio, Texas.  There are still some Schiltz products to be found out there but gone is the beer that made Milwaukee famous.  Pabst left Milwaukee in 1996 leaving Miller Brewing company the last of the brewing triumvirate in the former brewing capital of the United States although full ownership of that company passed to MolsonCoors, based in Chicago, in 2016.  Nothing stays the same . . . except for “Miller Time.”

“Miller time” is from a former advertising campaign for Miller beer.  After a long, hard day of work or play, what could be better than coming home and opening the fridge to find it full of ice cold Miller beer.  This was certainly often the case at home in Milwaukee years ago.  According to a senior marketing director for Miller Lite, "Miller Time is all about those moments when you're hanging out with your real friends and enjoying the great taste of Miller Lite."   Today, however, it has become a colloquial expression meaning one’s work is done and it’s time to relax with a cold beer of choice, especially now that  Miller Lite has moved on to a new marketing campaign slogan – “Beer Me!”

“Miller Time” is also a fond memory of my Grandfather Miller who used this appellation for late afternoon cocktail hour.  I’m not sure how far back this practice extended, but during the 1970s and 1980s, having moved to Florida for retirement, he would frequently have family and friends over for “Miller Time.”   Some might drink beer (I usually drank a Busch brewed across the Bay in Tampa), or perhaps a glass of wine.  My grandfather would always choose a well-prepared dry martini.  These drinks were usually served on the dockside deck over the Anclote River in Tarpon Springs, Florida, frequently while he was cleaning and filleting his daily catch.  It might also include a leisurely cruise down river to the sponge docks in town “to blow the stink off” before dinner. 

I still frequently refer to happy hour drinks as “Miller Time” whether enjoyed at a favorite tavern, at home, or across the street with our neighbors.  There is no question where one should be and what one should be doing when “Miller Time” is announced.  It time to go for the gusto, however you choose to celebrate it.  

A Cinco de Mayo Paean to Mexican Cuisine

A recently published commentary by a good friend raised a very important question.  Why Taco Tuesday?  They are good any day of the week.  

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I heartily concur.  Who came up with the idea of a Taco Tuesday anyway?  And why a Tuesday and not some other day?   My friend surmised it was due to the catchy alliteration and that just might be the case.  What is better than something that rolls right off the tongue? 

Digging just a little deeper it has been suggested that it was coined in coastal California as an adjunct to Happy Hour.  Cheap tacos are served up to be washed down with the adult beverage of one’s choice.  Taco John's International, Inc., a Cheyenne, Wyoming-based fast food  company, claimed it was the sole owner of the trademark “Taco Tuesday®” since 1989 in order to serve its specially priced “100% American beef tacos topped with crisp lettuce, cheese and our signature mild sauce.”  The United States Patent and Trademark Office has ruled, however, that “Taco Tuesday” is "a commonplace term, message or expression widely used by a variety of sources that merely conveys an ordinary, familiar, well-recognized concept or sentiment."  Damn straight!  Still, why just on Tuesday?

My friend was raised in Texas and Oklahoma and was weaned on Tex-Mex fare.  I, on the other hand, am a true blue Midwestern boy who grew up on meat and potatoes and the de rigeur Friday fish fry whether one is Catholic or not.  Mexican cuisine was not as ubiquitous in the American heartland and elsewhere as it is now what with chains like Taco Bell, Chipotle, Taco John’s, Moe’s . . . the list goes on.  That said, he and I are very simpatico these days regarding our love for Mexican food . . . and not just tacos.   

It was not until the beginning of 1974, when I moved to Tucson to begin graduate school, that I discovered just what I had been missing during my Midwestern youth.  It was there that I enjoyed my first non-chain taco (almost always served in a stiff pre-folded corn tortilla shell).  It was in the desert Southwest that I was also introduced to tostadas (which became my default dining choice when I ate on campus), the multiple variants of a well-prepared enchilada and burrito (including the local Tucson variant - the deep fried burrito known as a chimichanga), chili relleno, refried beans, and of course a tasty sopapilla for dessert.  Since then I have been a big fan of Mexican food in general, and I enjoy it regularly. 

Tacos in Tucson, and Mexican dishes in general, have long been patterned on Sonoran recipes and preparations which vary in degrees from what we consider as “Tex-Mex” and Mex-West dishes often found elsewhere in the USA.  With regard to the taco, the building blocks are a tortilla de horina (unleavened) with carne asada – chuck roll or top sirloin in most cases which can also be combined if desired.  The meat is cut into half inch thick strips and grilled with just a little salt and lime juice and then cut into bite-size cubes.  Refried beans are spread on the tortilla, the meat is added and then

topped off with salsa of choice and guacamole.  A sprinkle of cheese if one so desires.  Fold (if you can) and enjoy.  After leaving Tucson for the East Coast in 1976, I had to rely on a dear friend from my desert days to keep me supplied with Old Pueblo Poblano Salsa Ranchera, my favorite Tucson-made hot sauce.  It seemed to me that no Mexican fare would be complete without a couple shakes of OPPS.  Thankfully it is now available online and I no longer have to rely on my friend to mule it east for me.

Living where we do in metropolitan Washington DC, there is a host of small independent Mexican, Central American, and Tex-Mex eateries to choose from, and we have visited not a few.  One of them sticks out above all the rest and it would be entirely appropriate to give it a shout out.  Taco Fiesta started out thirty years ago in a small 16-seat restaurant in a strip mall adjacent to the University of Maryland campus in College Park.  Owned and managed by Jerry Gutierrez, a native Angelino, he made everything fresh from scratch daily relying on old family recipes.  It reminded me a great deal of the hole-in-the-wall joints I used to frequent in my Tucson days.  Great food and a most reasonable price and the carne asada is to die for!  Several years ago Jerry moved the restaurant close to his home in Baltimore, being one of the first businesses to open up in the Harbor East neighborhood then undergoing a massive rehabilitation project.  There it has remained at 618 South Exeter Street where it is a well-known and popular anchor in this now up-scale commercial and residential area just east of downtown.  And it is still frequented by loyal patrons from the days back in College Park.  It serves some of the best genuine Mexican fare you will find anywhere. 

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And there are up to a dozen fresh daily salsa selections to compliment any item on the menu.  Jerry is a good friend and a wonderful host and a great guy to chat with.  Taco Fiesta is a regular stop whenever we are in Baltimore.  

Wishing everyone a festive Cinco de Mayo!!!!

Note Bene: According to MarketWatch corn is presently leading the rally among grain commodities, having increased in price more than 30% so far in 2021 to its highest level in eight years.  This will create trouble for American consumers who favor Mexican food as the US demand for feeds and a current supply deficit will force this country to increase its importation of corn, especially from China.  The price of Mexican food will go up this summer.