
However, the deliciousness of the ribs, and coolness of the slaw that wasn’t too creamy or vinegar-soaked, was almost ruined by the horrible elote. And I’m not using the word “horrible” to be dramatic or a bitch. It was actually so bad that I wondered how someone thought it was okay to serve to people. As you see it sitting beautifully on the plate, it’s like a dog that sits in the window of a pet store long enough for you to make a purchase and put it in your car to take home with you before it shits all over your leather interior repeatedly. The corn was almost rotten. Either defrosted, reheated within an inch of it’s life, or rescued from the “rotten food bin fit for feed”, this corn was terrible. Everything that dressed it promised to be delicious, but the mushy, brownish yellow kernels that clung to the cob for dear life soured any chance for it to be edible.
I toiled with telling the waitress, and trying to explain what a great dish this could be, but something make me bite my tongue. And as I think about it now, it makes me even more sad to think that other people would try this elote for the first time and be turned off of the experience forever. If only I could’ve wiped the tears out of my eyes long enough to flag down our waitress and let her know.
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