My darling boyfriend, Luke, and I were having a conversation that offend comes up. It's regarding my favorite mexican restaurant which is Old Mexico in Berryville. It is the only mexican food I can ever remember eating when I grew up. That could be the reason why I feel it is the only authentic restaurant close to home. But this is similar to how our conversation went:
Every time I go I end up gorging myself and carrying on about it's deliciousness.
Luke replies - I don't know why you like this place so much. It taste like every other mexican place i've been.
Trying not to be offended I say - But everything here is HOME-MADE! Even the chips! They didn't just open a bag of chips in the back and pour them in this basket. They are sliced tortillas and toasted in the oven to golden brown perfection.
Luke - They aren't home-made Mattie....I can see them making them in the back right now.
Mattie - .................. (speech less with my head tilted looking at him like a confused puppy)
Then I realized Lukey Dukey was taking the meaning of HOME-MADE too literarily. In his head he must have been thinking that would be a lot of trips back and forth from Pedros kitchen to Old Mexico. Ohhh he cracks me up. I tried to refrain from heavy laughter, I was so full it hurt too.