I don't go to Taco Bell for two days, and next thing I know, they have a new item on the menu, albeit for a limited time only. (Come to think of it, they seem to go through an awful lot of these trial products--at the time of this writing they have at least three different ones available--and it's fair to say that they now beat out McDonald's as most experimental fastfood chain; what's amazing is that almost everything they do sell they manage to create with the same old ingredients: ground beef, shredded cheese, lettuce, and a taco shell.) Being a displaced Texan who's just the tad bit homesick, any foreign interpretation was bound to peak my interest; besides, I was terribly hungry, not having eaten since the night before. The picture wasn't all that descriptive, and the cashier not any more helpful--through her thick Middle Eastern accent I understood the yellowish dressing to be salsa. (The commercial says it's a "tangy Southwestern sauce," which sure tells me a whole lot.) I purchased both chicken ($1.19) and beef ($.99) varieties and grabbed a triplicate of hot sauces each for good measure (that is, if they didn't, up to my expectations). Having settled in a comfortable dining niche with a liter of Mountain Dew, I delved into this new experience. The foil wrapping is a sure indication that this was no value menu item, as is the thick pancake pita (or "oven-baked flatbread"), which also out-classes their paper towel-like tortilla. This is Taco Bell at its highest--not its best, mind you, but its fanciest. These things wouldn't survive the dreaded overnight test (or even, I doubt, a nap after half the bag), but, then again, they were neither designed nor meant to. And I never did figure out what that tasty goo was. Maybe it was all that hot sauce, which I poured on like ketchup in a French restaurant, or maybe it was my stomach saying more "it's about time" than "thanks."
Rating: (out of five)

Also Available:
• Double Decker Taco

Every time I pass by this place and I see their handwritten sign standing right outside the door I wonder what "Beef Chow Fun" could be, and what it was doing on a human's menu. The one time I had ventured inside before was after three one afternoon and an old lady assumed I wanted the last of their left-over potstickers, offered them to me, and I took them with the exchange of three dollars and less number of words of English. This time I went it was before two-thirty, but once again, the buffet (more cafeteria-like service, actually) had already been practically cleaned out, and the large lunch crowd had long since deserted the Wonder Years-style formica dining tables and wooden chairs. A Chinese man, whom I took to be the proprietor, stood behind the counter chopping broccoli into bits while his wife peddled their wares. What did remain (besides the potstickers, of course) was a selection of items contained in little bowls, the two which I picked (curry chicken and chicken chow mein) were emptied onto a large dish for me. These and a generous helping of fried rice were then microwaved, just as she would have done for me if she were my girlfriend's mother. The food was dry, bland, devoid of love or trust or meaning... there wasn't a single iota of affection, DAMNIT! I MEAN, YOU'RE WITH HER FOR FOUR YEARS OF YOUR LIFE, AND she--er, yeah. Well, as I was saying, it didn't set my taste buds on fire, but I have paid more than $4.29 for a fill-up like that. Oh, yes, I've paid much more than that...
Rating: (out of five)