Ever since I moved back to Greenpoint (first stint circa 2003), I’ve had a special place in my heart for the Mexican dive on my block, Papacitos. It’s hipster-hole-in-the-wall popular (they serve Vegan breakfast burritos after all), with a patio in the back that literally feels like you’re somewhere off a dirt road in Mexico. This past Spring they bought out the crazy psychic lady next door, expanded and have been in a painfully stagnant state of “applying for our liquor license” ever since.
A Mexican restaurant that has no means of getting tequila into my mouth?!? Well. Hang on. Sniff. I need a tissue.
Last night I walked by on my way home and if a chalked-up sandwich board could scream for joy, it would. It’s going to be a mighty warm winter, Charlie Brown.