I have never had issues with extreme spice the day after, but then again, I had never eaten authentic Thai food. After my adventures at Jitlada the night before, I be illin’ the next day at work. I was so bad off, I thought I had to leave the office and work from home.
Trouper that I am, I sweated and grit my teeth. Eventually, the nausea passed, but it left me no appetite for the paltry salad I had packed for lunch. I wanted home-y food. I wanted starch.
Luckily, it was a Thursday in Downtown LA, which meant the Farmer’s Market was only a block away from the LA Times building. The lines for the pupusas and gyros were too long, but that was okay; I craved tamales.
A chicken BBQ (a woman assured me it wasn’t sweet, but smoky) and carnitas tamales were perfect, as was the slushy lemonade from a few stands over. Since I was spiced out, I opted for a tangy tomatillo sauce. The only thing that could have improved my meal was a jigger of tequila in my lemonade. I love LA.
