The Hoodener’s Horse
I’ma carry on in a minute, but first I’m gonna let y’all know what a Hoodener’s Horse is.
Hoodening is something a certain breed of person does around Christmas time – the same breed of person that does Morris dancing in the spring – i.e. cunts. They dress up in idiot clothes and hold a wooden horse with a flappy mouth while miming something about resurrection – generally interfering with a decent night out and making everyone hate them.
That’s got nothing to do with this place other than the name. This is a Mexican style restaurant in a tiny pub in a tiny village. There are a number of them around my area so I feel it deserves a review.
We were the only ones there, aside from what looked like the local drunk slumped in the corner – bit dark and oppressive with red paint on the walls and not many windows (the room, not the drunk). Pint of Doom Bar and some nachos to start with. SALTY AS ALL HELL. It’s like they took a packet of Doritos and added salt, along with cheese, sour cream and salsa, and the amount – jeez – we had a small one to share but that was plenty for 2. I dread to think what a large one would look like.
Main course, chicken fajitas for 2. On one of those skillets that sizzles, makes you cough and gives 1st degree burns to your hand if you so much as glance at it. So, the self-build meal commences. Tortilla wrap, meat, guacamole, sour cream, cheese, salsa, wrap it up, stuff it in. OH LORDY, THERE’S SOME FAJITA IN MY SALT.
Another couple of pints of Doom Bar required to wash it down. Persevered as I was hungry, 5 fajitas smashed up in my gob.
Was tempted to go for ‘Eaten Mess’ dessert but couldn’t be arsed as it would probably be laced with salt.
Annoyed the staff by producing a 2 for 1 voucher that we’d got in the post at the end rather than the start of the meal (seems they adapt how much meat they give you if you’re on the cheap – cheeky little protip for you there).
Now the morning after and it still feels like the moisture is being sucked out of my mouth by salt.