![]() ![]() I ate mine in a cubicle her sandwich took me to Sheep Meadow in Central Park, to a stretch of beach at Jacob Riis Park, to the peak of Mount Monadnock. Tejal did that one day a few years ago, wrapping the sandwiches in wax paper and bringing them to the office as if she were taking them to a picnic. ![]() I’ll rise early Saturday to make a lunchtime version of Tejal Rao’s recipe for fried chicken biscuits with hot honey butter. That and a peach cobbler for dessert? This will be a weekend for the record books. The tacos make me feel content, as if all the possibilities in the world are in front of me and ready for the taking, a turnaround jump shot. That drink makes me feel like Travis McGee aboard the Busted Flush, slip F-18 at the Bahia Mar marina in Fort Lauderdale. And I like my Micheladas cold - the beer stored in the freezer so that it’s flecked with the beginnings of ice, then served over actual ice so that it smokes a little in the humidity while the glass around it sweats. I deploy a healthy splash of Clamato juice, rim my glass with Tajín and add a few splashes of hot sauce and Worcestershire. You may make your Micheladas simply, as Rebekah Peppler does, with just lime and salt. It is the highest of summer where I am, torpor is afoot, and all I want to do is bubble some birria de res (above) on the stove in advance of a dinner of tacos and Micheladas. These are the days of miracle and wonder, Paul Simon sings through the device on the counter. ![]()
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