It was not Valentine’s Day, but it could have been. At El Ranchito on Jefferson, where they announce Fiestas, Mariachis, y Cabrito, a couple by the window in a side room sat framed by deep red drapes, like a perfect Valentine. At the center, they bent over a fajita platter, their heads bowed and almost touching.
Meanwhile, in the main room, there was rum-spiked house horchata; and sizzling platters that are love songs to cebolla, the sweet, grilled onion; and mariachi music like a big, musical hug—mellow bass guitar and brassy trumpets. I was swept off my feet long before the couple left, hand in hand, and a man threaded his way between tables with a smile and beglittered scenes of the Last Supper.
Call me sentimental. To me, it was an evening of love.
