Pinche

Regular readers of this blog (hey Mom! hey Dad!) know that we tend to complain about portion size. It's not that we're gigantic gargantuans who want to gobble everything in our path. On the contrary: we just think that the amount and quality of food should be commensurate with the price. And that brings us to Pinche: a tiny taqueria on the Lower East Side.


First we sipped our Mexican sodas, a lemon-lime and a watermelon that tasted exactly like a liquid Jolly Rancher, and thoughtfully considered the chalkboard menu. We also watched a brutal game of futbol on the telly. Did you know that soccer could be so bloody? We sure didn't.


And then there was the food. On quality, this place (whose name means "fuck" in Spanish) gets high marks. In all, we tried four tacos: bean, fish, chicken, and pork. Each came with a healthy dollop of guacamole, which complimented the fish and pork. (It worked less well on the chicken and on the bean --- the former because the guac overshadowed the chicken's flavor, and the latter because the guac made the mushy beans even mushier. As our Top Chef friends would say, there wasn't any texture.)

But they were all so small!


See? Just two to three bites each. But at just two to three dollars a piece, we honestly can't complain too much. Because, naturally, we would if we could.