An expectant hush falls over the table as the waiter finally reappears, platter in hand. He ceremoniously and deftly dips and drops your meal, wishes you bon appetit and silently glides away. You admire the pretty midnight purple package before you and then, like a child at Christmas, joyously rip apart the banana leaf wrapper. You tentatively taste the slow-simmered shredded pork, guajillo chiles, masa and spices, then realize something's missing and add a touch of red Casas salsa. The pork bursts over your palate and you feel the rush of a thousand sensations dancing over your tongue. Though a bit small, the serving of tamales de puerco with salsa packs flavor into every bite, and you sip your salty margarita and enjoy life amidst the tourists and horse-drawn carriages of the West End.
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