Something about those big old whatever-they-are whole fish with the gnarly teeth and frozen eyeballs in the seafood department, and you know you're not in a white-bread Anglo-two-shoes store anymore when you come to Fiesta. Mariachi music on the PA system, a light sprinkling of lettuce fragments on the floor, the world's most complete assortment of hot sauces, babies speaking Spanish to their grandmas: This is the place to come when you need a break from Martha Stewart. And Fiesta has waaay better shrimp than the gringo stores.