Tuesday, December 27, 2011.
Five Hundred Miles For Uncle Julio's.
Mary Ann's original plan had us leaving on our long vacation driving trip in pre-dawn. But the progeny stayed out late last night. Mary Ann knew just how late, because she was up packing when they returned after midnight.
We left for Atlanta after ten. Mary Ann swears that the 500 miles can be covered in eight hours. The way she drives--pushing eighty most of the time, weaving in and out of lanes, not minding when mammoth trucks are on all four sides of her--she might be right. We made only one stop, a bathroom break in Birmingham. For that, we had to seek out a first-class hotel in the middle of downtown. Mary Ann requires no less. Now I know one of her priorities: marble bathrooms trump breakneck speed.
It wasn't much more than eight hours when we pulled into an Atlanta mall for dinner at Uncle Julio's. It's a slick, handsome Mexican chain that has become a required stop for Mary Leigh if she is within a hundred miles of the place. She got the bug during her post-Katrina year in Bethesda, Maryland. She says Uncle Julio's makes the best chips and salsa on the planet. That doesn't strike me as a good enough reason for the passion she has for the place, but we all have our peccadillos of taste.
We were all quite hungry, and ordered a big meal. We began with queso flameado--melted cheese with chorizo and onions. We all thought this much less interesting than in most other places we've had it. (And that was with the mellowing influence of a passionfruit margarita working on me.) We filled the table with more ordinary food: chicken tamales, bean-and-cheese nachos, and fajitas.
For me, steak Tampiqueno. The beef was of indeterminate cut. All I can tell you is that it was on the tough side. The cheese enchiladas that came with it were better, but still made me yearn for La Carreta. But I kept my mouth shut so the girls could enjoy themselves in this, one of their favorite places out there in the big world.
We checked into the Westin Hotel in a business park on the north perimeter of Atlanta. Mary Ann said it looked a lot more worn out than it did last year at this time. My mind's ear heard a virtual ratchet click, as the minimum allowable hotel by Mary Ann's standards moved in the direction of the Ritz-Carlton.
Uncle Julio's. Sandy Springs (Atlanta): 1140 Hammond Dr NE. 678-736-8260.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
