CP
Christian Padierna
3 days ago
This is the last Johnny Gringo review you'll ever need to read.
I was down on my luck, hungry as ever, when I came across the neon signage glistening in rain puddles on Chester St. I look up at the sign and am greeted by the pure aura of a man I can only assume to be "Johnny Gringo." I think "Well, I'm a gringo myself per chance" and walk inside.
Little did I know, Johnny Gringo wouldn't just be a place to settle my hunger, but to enjoy a wonderful meal made with love and craftsmanship.
I was taken care of attentively and thoroughly. I ordered a quesadilla frita with carne asada -- a flaky, cheesy quesadilla that still maintained its shape and didn't break as I picked it up -- I was transported to Oaxaca instantly.
Then, the two tacos with al pastor were dropped off to me with a jovial smile "Enjoy the meal." One bite and I thought I felt the ocean breeze of the Pacific brushing against my cheek in Baja.
The warmth of my meal could only be described as the embrace one feels as a child from their parents -- wholly safe and all loving.
Feeling rejuvenated in my heart and stomach, my soul needed something extra. That's when the lights turned on and the music started playing -- a dance floor, of course.
I thought Dionysius himself grabbed me by the wrist and lulled me to the dance floor where the immaculate music curation enveloped me. I danced for a long while until I knew it was time to depart.
I set out with my chin a little higher, my stomach full, and my feet light.
If you're a gringo, or if you're not a gringo, I highly recommend clearing out time to travel far and wide or short and narrow to this location.
You will absolutely not regret it.