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Cinco de Mayo . . . er, der Fünfte Mai

Written by Edith Wild

“So what the heck is a taco, really?” asked Maria, David’s girlfriend.

It was with great fanfare that the owners of the Thuringen Gardens added real honest-to-god tacos to their menu in May of 1634. May 5th, Cinco de Mayo, was to be celebrated with a mariachi band, Mexican food, piñatas, Mexican-style candies, cotton candy and German beer. Of course, the Gardens was packed with anyone in Grantville who was addicted to tacos. This included David Dominic Villareal and company.

“They’re . . . well, they’re just good,” David said. “I’ve missed them, missed them a lot. The fast food kind, that is. Mom does great spaghetti, but her tacos . . . well, never mind. It’s nice to be able to go to a restaurant and order what you want, don’t you think?”

Maria held on to David’s hand. They were the usual party of twelve, David, Maria, some of his friends and their girlfriends. They were normally in the Gardens at least twice a week, often more, drinking beer and eating typical Gardens' food. Maria did like sauerkraut and sausages, so why tacos? David had gotten her to agree to try them, even though she still had her doubts.

"May fifth will be forever different," David said. "It's time to celebrate our heritage as Mexican Americans, not just Thanksgiving and Fourth of July."

The platters of tacos were rolled out and set on the tables. David’s eyes lit up like two roman candles at a fireworks show.

"Tacos! Tacos!" he said. "Look, Maria"

She did. Hugely layered, with beef, spring greens, baby tomatoes, shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream and hot sauce on tortillas the size of dinner plates.

"Pico de gallo!" David exclaimed. "I sure miss guacamole, though. But you can't ship in avocados yet."

David looked like he’d died and gone to heaven. The beer steins, enormous things, were all loaded with a local pilsner. Maria felt aghast at the mound of food and could not for the life of her figure out why David liked the tacos so much. They smelled funny. There was a burning sensation in the air, but no flames. David was sweating profusely and appeared to be in pain but washed it away with more pilsner.

Maria picked at her taco, rolled her eyes and shuddered at the thought of eating anything strange looking. It was not lady-like, nor particularly practical. "We had tacos for dinner and I couldn't eat them," she thought.

The music was another element; it was so different. The mariachi band was really not Mexican but they played the music, fast and sweet and romantic, or so David whispered into her ear. The band was even dressed authentically, in Jalisco costumes David called them. They wore huge sombreros, and silver embroidered velvet suits and the band even had a viheula and a guitarron. Maria could see that David recognized all of the men who played so fast and furiously.

David was grinning ...