Salsa Brava

Before I left for my trip, I spent a night looking online and researching different places to stay, eat at and check out. I stumbled upon Salsa Brava in Flagstaff, a Mexican restaurant featured on Guy Fiore's show on the Food Network "Diners, Dives and Drive-Ins." The restaurant got great reviews on Yelp and was also mentioned on the Travel Channel website, so I decided I would check it out my first night in Flagstaff. As all of you know, though, I pulled into Flagstaff last night at around 10:45. Salsa Brava closes at 9:00, so I thought I'd have to pass it up. Mother Nature intervened, however, and I was able to enjoy a nice meal tonight.

I have a weakness for fish tacos. When I ordered I asked the waitress for her recommendation between those or the Cajun shrimp tacos and she preferred the latter. The service all-around was friendly, efficient and very helpful. I think my designated waiter wasn't available when I walked in, but the aforementioned waitress quickly and calmly took my order and then my assigned waiter apologized profusely for having kept me waiting. They gave me a generous helping of corn chips (which were a little overfried--too hard, even though I am sure they were fresh) and small ramikins for the salsa bar, which, I think, in and of itself is a reason to visit Salsa Brava. The pico de gallo was a perfect mix of tomatoes, onions, cilantro and jalapeno peppers; the mild version still had tons of flavor. The fire-roasted chipotle salsa was perfection: smoky, piquant, and not too spicy. The tomatillo sauce also good. I ordered a strawberry margarita, too, which was on special for $4 all night.


My food came within fifteen minutes. It looked great: black beans sprinkled with queso fresca, Spanish rice, and delish-looking shrimp tacos! Sadly, the black beans and rice were a little bland; they could have used a little more seasoning, or maybe it was because my tongue was still exploding from all the salsas I just sampled. The shrimp tacos were great, though: plump little shrimps glazed with cajun spices on a crisp bed of shredded cabbage, just enough mild pico de gallo, melted cheese and a generous brushing of jalapeno tartar sauce. Good stuff. I'm stuffed!

Although the food was a little overpriced ($9.50 for a plate I could probably find in LA for $5 or $6), it was worth it. My bill still came under $15 for dinner and the friendly service certainly made it worth the visit. Anyway, it was nice to feel like I was in gringo Mexico for a minute as the snow continues to fall in Flagstaff.

Saved by a Meteor Crater!

Well, I had my lovely morning at Macy's and hit the road around 11:30am. It is 44 degrees and hailing when I Ieave Flagstaff, but about 15 minutes outside of the city the skies clear and and it is sunny with great puffs of clouds rolling across vast empty plains. I notice a haze of pink dust in the distance and find the image strange. The open road fills me with giddiness, though, and I put on my upbeat playlist from work that features MGMT, Lil Mama and the like. I'm cruising down Hwy 40, ready to keep driving until I hit Tucumcari, New Mexico, my next destination when I notice a sign off the side of the road: METEOR CRATER. Then another sign: Tune to 1610 AM for info. I tune in and an emphatic radio announcer beguiles the lone Hwy 40 traveller: "Visit historic Winslow! Take a picture with the flatbed girl!...Experience...the Impact! Visit Meteor Crater! Over 2-1/2 miles round! 4000 feet across, 550 feet deep! It's NASA's official training and test site!" I think, why the hell not? I've never seen a meteor crater and it's only 5 miles south of the highway.

I take a two-lane road off the freeway and pass a bunch of cows. I spend maybe five minutes at the welcome center after I learn that admission to see the crater is $15. Meteors craters are cool, but not that cool. Plus, it is windy as hell; I'm nearly knocked over as I walk back to my car. As I near the highway, I notice that all the cars have stopped in their tracks. No one is moving anywhere. WTF? Was there an accident?


I turn around and drive into a gas station in the shape of a something space-like. There is a Hole Enchilada and an old biker dude with a ZZ Top beard decked out in a leather jacket and chaps covered in patches from, what I can only guess are his many travels. I ask the woman at the counter if she knows what's going on on the highway.

"They've closed the road."
"What?"
"They closed it down."
"Howcome? What happened?"
"Too windy."
"Is that what that pink cloud is?"
"Yeah, red dirt."
"How long will it be closed down for?"
"Until at least 7:00 or 8:00 tonight."
"Tonight??!"
"Yeah, that's what they did last week."
"So what happens to the people who are stuck on the road?"
"They're stuck."
"You mean they're stuck there until 7:00?"
"Yeah."

Wow. Thank god I turned off the highway when I did! I would have gone absolutely bonkers if I had been stuck in one place on Hwy 40 for seven or eight hours. I decide to drive back to Flagstaff and spend another night there. It's supposed to continue to rain and even snow a little bit, but I'll have another night here to explore the city and also get something good to eat. I'm starving. I haven't eaten a solid meal since I left Los Angeles--just snacking on food I brought from home and the breakfast croissant I had at Macy's earlier this morning. I hear there's a good Mexican restaurant, Salsa Brava it's called, and I'm curious about the historic downtown area of Flagstaff. I'm not really dressed for the weather because I wasn't anticipating a winter storm, but I think I'll be fine. I might even go to a free yoga class I read about online later tonight...

A Perfect Cappuccino in Flagstaff, Arizona

Okay coffee chains... take note: lattes are not just watered down milky coffee drinks with a coating of frothed milk on top. Lattes and cappuccinos, when made properly, should have a thick layer of warm foam on top--foam thick as a pillowtop mattress! This is what I am drinking now. After waking up at 6:30 and only getting about four-and-a-half hours of sleep, I decided to wake up. I thought about a conversation I had with Indigo Boy about waking up at sunrise while I travel. We used to work together and have to occasionally get up at the crack of dawn. After quitting my job, I missed having a reason to wake up so early and he suggested I do so while I travel. So I rose at 6:30 this morning and made my way to Macy's European Coffehouse, a cafe I read about on Yelp and Travelocity. Plus, I am having a good hair day.

So far, there are two things indispensable items I have with me on my travels: the old-fashioned AAA Triptik I printed out before I hit the road and my iPhone. I don't know what I would do without my iPhone. I use it constantly to update my Facebook profile, check my email, make phone calls, check the weather, listen to music, take photos, and figure out where the hell I am. No such luck this morning with the last function because it actually got me lost... or, no, I inputted the wrong address from a wrong address listed on Yelp. I was able to see a bit of Flagstaff, though, and I became immediately enchanted by the turn-of-the-century frontier architecture and small town feel. I manage to navigate my way to Macy's European Coffeehouse, but have to wait for a train to pass. Large droplets of rain begin to fall and something hard starts bouncing off the windshield of my car. Hail? Cool!


After parking, I make my way inside and the first thing I see are two painted portraits of an elderly gentleman wearing something that looks like a turban. Then I glance at the patrons having breakfast and a man who bears an uncanny resemblance to the gentleman in the portrait sits below it. I wonder if it is him. I wonder if he knows that there is a guy right above him who looks like him. I take a picture. What do you think?


I am now drinking a delectable cappuccino with chocolate and cinnamon called a Cafe Bohemian. These are trained professionals. Baristas who take their jobs and coffee seriously. When the server handed me my drink I almost didn't know what to do with it. The dusting of chocolate and cinnamon created a coating like a layer of paint. To drink it one has to almost penetrate the top layer, only to discover the pillowtop mattress of foam underneath. This was a cappuccino unlike anything I've tasted before. Perfection!

Even though everyone I encounter is very friendly and courteous, my radar is starting to heighten; an awareness is growing that I am the only non-White as I travel farther east on Highway 40. Nary an ethnic face greets me inside the coffee house. There are older men who either look like leftovers from the frontier era or professors from the local college and lots of young outdoorsy Patagonia-types. A tall guy in his twenties approaches me and asks what I am writing. He is handsome in a sun-bleached, full-bearded kind of way. He looks like he should be wearing Patagonia, but he is wearing a very cool motorcycle jacket. We chat for a bit and he introduces himself--Destry is his name--before he wishes me well and leaves me to my writing.

I'm feeling a little sleepy, but there's rain in the forecast for the next few hours and I don't want to drive at night.