Lali – 630 10th Ave
I don’t speak a single word of Spanish. The Dominican women behind the counter, their aprons on, their hands digging into the pots overflowing plates of beans, rice and stew, they knew. It was obvious.
A woman put the platter in front of me and raised an eyebrow.
Well, I didn’t mind. I sat at the counter and attacked my plate like I had never seen food before.
The rice and beans melted in my mouth. The beef stew fell apart before I could touch it. The baked chicken was the juiciest I’ve ever had. The flavors were brilliant, succulent and satisfying.
Ten minutes later, my friends nudged their leftovers around their plate, held their stomachs and groaned.
Not me. I scraped off every last grain of rice and licked my lips.
I didn’t need to speak a word of Spanish. It didn’t matter. The Dominican ladies and I exchanged smiles. They knew what I meant. It was obvious.