Full Squids in a Food Truck: Kiko’s Place

I used to say that I ranked 4th in my home’s list of decision makers. First was my wife, then the kids, next came Oprah, and finally, me. Oprah is off the air and she has since been replaced by Yelp.  Yelp has been much better to me than Oprah ever was. 

A Friend told us about Kiko’s Pace but Yelp made us eat there. Again, Yelp has been very good to me. If you are ever in San Diego, look them up.

Kiko’s is a food truck; quite the rage these days. I’m less concerned with what the rage is than I am with what the food is, and while I am not above things deemed barbarian, pedestrian, or maybe even grungy, when paying for food I have a true appreciation for ambiance. Roach coaches normally rank low on the ambiance scale so in my opinion greasy trucks have an added responsibility to deliver on the ingestibles. I am also not the first person in any line for sea food so Kiko’s started out with two strikes.

Despite the loaded count they hit a homer.

Let me just make a note of what is in the hand of the man above, and also what is in the hand of the man in the picture above the picture above; a whole stinking squid. I say stinking as a figurative adjective not a literal one. It wasn’t smelly but it wasn’t from a package, or a freezer, but rather an Igloo cooler full of crushed ice. This then went onto a tortilla, along with every other creature not normally found in an aquarium, got covered with melted cheese, and finally it went into my mouth.

That was the best part.C ouple notes: they don’t do anything wrong. I, the expert, recommend everything on the menu. Also, don’t skip on the soup. There is almost always a line and a wait, because that guy has to kill the squid, but they give a large cup of soup to sop while you wait. It was almost good enough to skip the food.

Don’t do that.

Museum of Man: they refused to put me behind the glass

They call it the Museum of Man. I haven’t yet decided if that is a grandiose title or overly simplistic. Either would be fitting. The building’s exterior is indeed grandiose, and the interior is surprisingly… not.

I appreciate the learning experience a museum potentially provides young visitors, but as I walked around looking at words written on walls next to plaster casts of this and that, or diagrams of things not actually housed in the museum, I wondered what a museum provides in this regard that can’t just as easily, or easier, be found via Google. I walk quickly past these sorts of things.

I’m looking for artifacts.

The sign on the wall talked of how green is a symbolic color meaning something other than illness or frogginess. I am dubious. I can imagine an ancient artisan spinning some tale of how this color glorifies the deceased, when really he just ran low on brown paint or the deceased owed him money.

I have decided that men in all places, times, and sorts, like to play dress-up but are afraid to admit it. Consequentially we call our costumes “armor” or “ceremonial” and so on. What a tragedy that man will wage war with each other as a means to justify costumes devoid of childish or feminine insinuation. I mean you put a Groucho mustache on your armor. Do not get me wrong, I love it, I just don’t think you should have to stab people with spears and swords in order to wear your “scary” outfit.

Speaking of scary…These stacks of money represent wealth held by the varying “races” of humans. Now race may have no biological reality but that difference in stack size matters. Now while I realize that I, a white guy, contribute very little to that giant stack of white man cash, I also realize that at least 2/3’s of that black stack belongs to Oprah. We average folk of all shades hold very little relative wealth, but I do hold the knowledge that skin color still matters in America.

But then, after all the walking and looking at descriptions of men and manliness, I reflect on not only the most basic and descriptive, but also the most informative and lasting knowledge regarding man- bacon on hot dogs is wonderful.