Restaurant Review, Albertaco’s Mexican Food 601 Sycamore Ave Vista, CA 92083

Restaurant Review, Albertaco’s Mexican Food  

601 Sycamore Ave  Vista, CA 92083

“That’ll be $6.94,” the cashier responds with extra communication.  I don’t know the name of the worker who pleases with a few more words, I’ve guessed.  A moment earlier I would’ve grown more curious about the chunky layers of a breakfast burrito, but now I’ve longed to mess with salsa because my wisdom teeth can think for me.  The moving cashier’s mysterious talk about my breakfast demands is appealing to his refined appearance as my expected talk complements his with a strange kind of harmony.  “Here’s $3.06.  I’ll take care.”  He makes the face of a pharaoh I see on TV.  This restaurant’s walls are pale yellow while a TV plays back Spanish that comforts me.  In fact this place reminds me of a Chinese restaurant I visit in a desert.  This quarter on Vista isn’t the best base for a Mexican restaurant that presents a menu with many windows.  I can’t believe that I’m dealing with a gentle guy who works so hard.  The cook in the kitchen cooks my eggs with some of the best steam.  “Can I get a refill?” I really say.  The cashier rushes between many counters, in a hurry to speak to cars at the Drive-Thru.  He acts mysterious with a varied kind of judgment for Diet Coke so he labors on for ludicrous speed.  The hidden cash register gives off a metallic chime as he takes my debit and fixes my plate together.  He strikes me as interesting when I eat my burrito’s yummy meat.  He stares, he cares.  Ten minutes later, I remark on the television’s vivid language in my mind.  Wild guys are jumping on trampolines, on TV!  I mention this situation for this review to illustrate what ambiance the restaurant has.  Many of my scenes at this urban restaurant for fluffy fries now remind me of the empty dining room.  Half of their burrito meats, which taste rather dry with enough moisture, are cooked by workers who sway enough for results.  When our talk (me, cashier) settles on the wide space rooms, I need to relinquish my fear over pleasure that makes me queasy and eat the hot burrito’s bulk.  The cashier gives a vague nod, but he’s determined to swerve for quick food.  A nice Spanish show on TV can make out its restaurant entertainment that I care about for wild sports or the guy who cares.  The restaurant’s workforce of quick harmony seems to provide bites of Mexican food that are so fluffy, chewy, and good.