Nothing can compare to good old American ingenuity!

We have this new Saturday tradition. Hubby insists upon it. Uh, no, not that. You have such dirty minds! It’s chicken!

I head over to the traveling neighborhood grill where I am known as La Americana who orders la especial. The grilled chicken folks are expanding their operation. Now they not only offer amazing beans, rice, tortillas and hot salsa, they’ve added super hot salsa, fresh chips and apple-cinnamon empanadas. OMG!

This stuff is so freakin’ good! The smell is heavenly and the flavor, even better. I guess I’m the only La Americana willing to buy what is essentially street food. God, I love street food. Where is Anthony Bourdain when you need him?

This past Saturday I took my number - written on a piece of paper torn from a brown paper bag - and sat on a bench next to a family of three and their chihuahua. I should have brought Jake. We smiled at each other as we waited. There were six people in front of me. Nobody spoke English and my Spanish is poor - I can understand enough to get by, but I have a bad habit of mixing Spanish and Hebrew when I try to speak, so I keep my mouth shut. Nodding or shaking my head seems to be about all anyone expects of me.

So I sat there, breathing in the rich smoke, watching red bandana woman flip the chickens while blue bandana woman pulled the finished birds off the grill, chopped them expertly with a machete, stuck them in a plastic bag and handed them to beans, rice, tortilla and now chips and empanada man. Nobody touches the money - it goes straight from the buyer’s hand into a jar. Cash only, tips optional.

Orgasmic.

I think the chicken is marinated in achiote paste, with annatto seeds, coriander, Mexican oregano, cumin, black pepper, cloves, garlic, salt and maybe a little lime. Can’t taste any sugar and the chicken isn’t too blackened so I doubt there’s anything sweet in the rub or marinade.

As long as the weather holds out, I bet they’ll be grilling and I’ll be buying. Shhhhh - keep it on the downlow…