One should be afraid with not, a language to experiment. And we shan't, for naught, lest our editors heed. If they fear, they change. And change is bad.
So, we find ourselves asking just why every restaurant on Foothill Boulevard sports red vinyl seating apparati. La Paloma, TexMex for the gerontocracy, boasts no exception to this rather unsettling dogma.
We went to La Paloma in search of Mexican food in generous and inexpensive servings. Discovering "El Kitchen Sink or Swim" on the menu for a mere seven dollars, we declared our search successful and prepared ourselves for an economical feast. When confronted with the platter adorned with two kinds of cheese and a pound or so of meat, our appetites took a definite downturn.
Burrito pulpy carved death, vinyl cheap and La Paloma big kitchen the.
You may notice a significant divergence in modes of expression between the previous two paragraphs. Rely not on the more bourgeois appeal of the former, for when the Revolution comes, your grammar checker shall be upgraded to accept only the latter, more aesthetic syntactical aroma. Real tasty.
Yet the Revolution shall have to wait, as Beggars' Banquet is about to place an indefinite bookend on its illustrious career of three semesters. Ryan is off to the land of octopus pizza and Shinjuku sushi, and won't be around to play grammatical Pong anymore.
So, while we count the minutes until the Great Cultural Uprising, we offer you the following thought for food. The aforementioned industrial-grade burrito was a delicate blend of life and limb, only slightly heavier than your average linebacker. And it sweat, to boot. Presented tactfully on an oversized platter, it's the perfect meal for any of those among us who haven't yet surrendered their carnivorous sensibilities.
Be forewarned, however, that the distinctively La Vernesque environment in which you would have to consume this fleshy hodgepodge is decidedly counterrevolutionary. Despite its proximity to a significant student population, La Paloma doesn't appear to go out of its way to cater to the under-30 crowd. For Mexican food, then, we can't recommend anything over the Platonic Taco of Tropical Mexico.
What else is there to say? The tab was mediocre and so was the food. We only got one basket of chips. The old guy sitting one booth over kept drooling into his margarita. We thought they were going to card us for water. At least we weren't afraid to walk into the place, as is not the case with a certain other establishment on Foothill.
Yet fear is the nemesis of great literature, and only those willing to tread the verboten path shall achieve true aesthetic catharsis. Next week, then, the Boat.
La Paloma, if you haven't already figured it out, is on Foothill. We think it's in La Verne, but we're not too sure. At any rate, it's just beyond the 98 Cents store, on the other side of the boulevard.