tell 'em linda sent ya

Shortly before moving to the city, I read a fascinating item in the New Yorker about Caleb Smith, a man on a mission to walk every street in Manhattan. Smith noted: "[T]he island’s cuisine falls into two categories: Chinese Mexican, or Asian-owned restaurants that serve tacos ... and Mexican Chinese, or Hispanic-owned restaurants serving fried rice."
Tonight we had our first taste of the former category. Sort of.
We happened into La Chinita Linda after another lengthy process of elimination, which entails me suggesting places to eat and my boyfriend shooting each of them down.
The sign outside promised both Cuban and Chinese food, prompting Brian's joke that maybe Linda had been some hispanic chick who'd gotten knocked up in Beijing.
Inside, I was scared. The place had all the ambience of a greyhound bus station. A sad-eyed man sat near the front counter; we couldn't tell if he was waiting on takeout or contemplating suicide. One large wall featured an enormous, poorly painted mural of the WTC -- the second such display we'd spotted in a restaurant this week. I'm sorry, folks, but thoughts of 9/11 do not want to make me tip more.
Even still, the food was good. Actually, it was great. Huge portions. Lots of flavor. We'll definitely go back.
And, the best thing: Unlike Caleb Smith, we only had to walk half a block for it.