“What’s pink sauce?” I was standing in front of a low take out counter, three large flat screen TV’s flickered the menu over my head far too quickly to read. The darkness of the room and strobe like flashing made me feel like I was in a Reggaeton video and disoriented me just enough to inhibit my common sense. How else could I explain ordering the house special at Los Perros?
Picture it, an all beef hotdog with mozzarella cheese, ketchup, mustard, sour cream, pink sauce, pineapple sauce and grinded potato. I was visiting my friend, Mira, in Ft. Lauderdale and her neighbors had raved about the place. After reading the menu, I was inclined to believe them. The flavor combination was so bold and out there that it had to be great, right?
It took me two big bites to realize what I was really eating. The grinded potatoes were actually chip crumbs, and pink sauce was ketchup and mayonnaise blended together. As I write this now, my stomach turns. The cheese, which was not mozzarella, coated the dog like a thick white water proofing, but the myriad of sauces still managed to soak the bun.
As if waking from a dream, I looked around wondering how I got to this place. Why was I eating the teenage boy’s dream sandwich?
Personal recommendations are my favorite way to find great places to eat. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I can’t go wrong, but the other one percent… I’m like an overconfident AIG executive- destined to fail.