Taco Tuesday: An American Adventure

Ski bums will go to great lengths to save money and buy anything as cheap as possible. This includes the Rossland dinner-out tradition of making a weekly international trip for fifty-cent tacos. While a trip to the US of A is a cultural experience in itself, the quest for fifty-cent tacos is really a trio of ski bum savings:

1. Fifty-cent tacos washed down with cheap jugs of American beer
2. A six-pack of American beer to-go (all that you're allowed to take back with a less-than-24-hour visit to the States)
3. A cheap fill-up of gas for the [unlucky but sober] driver

First attempt at Taco Tuesday: A mostly Canadian group of mostly ski bums drove the short 10km to the border between Rossland and Northport, WA. We had a Swede with us, and shortly into the cross-border interrogation of our intentions in America, we were informed that we would need six dollars for the Swede to get a visa to enter the country. Six dollars, US currency, exact change, no debit or credit cards. Our collective tally of the car's US funds totalled a disappointing four dollars. The border officer seemed offended by our lack of American currency, and demanded to know exactly how we planned on paying for our tacos if were to get to Kuk's Tavern:

1. It's the 21st century. Maybe we'd use a debit card, a credit card, or even stop at an ATM, a magical machine invented in the 1960s!
2. Maybe, with the zillions of dollars being spend on securing the American homeland, they could put in a one of the above modern conveniences at the Paterson/Frontier border crossing.
3. Everyone knows (except this border guard) that Kuk's accepts Canuck bucks.

We pulled a u-turn, drove back to Canada, and ordered pizza.

Second attempt at Taco Tuesday: I loaded my wallet with six American dollars that I gathered from my housemates in case we came up short again. Our vehicle of the week was loaded with two Australians, one German, one Dutch, and myself. We pulled up to the border and the guard-of-the-week let us through with only a minor delay when our Dutch companion needed to get her fingerprints taken. (The following week, our border guard "Dickie" simply nodded knowingly when we stated "Taco Tuesday" and let us through without incident, interrogation, or inspection).

Enter Northport. Population 336, incorporated 1898, and located seven miles south of the border. Believe me, these seven miles seem like a world away and as soon as you arrive in Northport, it's apparent you're definitely not in Canada anymore. The accent is different, the people are larger, the moustaches are serious. Where Rossland is home of toques, Sorels, and ski jackets, Northport is home to camouflage. Lots and lots of camouflage. It's like walking straight into hunting season. A quick stop at the combination gas station/liquor store let's you take a quick peek at the kill board...a charming bulletin board where local's post pictures of the cougars, wolves, bobcats, and bears they've successfully hunted. Frankly, I had no idea it was even legal to hunt any of those animals, and after a brief check into the Canadian government's (or should I say the Harper Government's?) website, I found out it is indeed legal to hunt all of the above. Guess I've never had the privilege of living near a local kill board!

Local Kill Board

With our 30 beers (20 bucks!) and a full tank of gas, we drove the two blocks to get our fill of affordable pseudo-Mexican cuisine. Enter Kuk's Tavern, Disco and Bowling. Established in 1888, Kuk's is the oldest continually-run tavern in Washington. It's the kind of place where upon entering, you feels the inquiring eyes of the locals wondering who the strangers are. I assume they're also wondering why you aren't wearing any camouflage while they peer suspiciously at the fuzzy thing on your head that's taking up the space where the ballcap goes. Never fear, if you feel too out-of-place, you can buy a camouflage ballcap at the front cashier (seriously)!

From the formica tables, shuffleboard and single bowling lane, to the dart board and plentiful beer-girl posters, there is very little about Kuk's that doesn't cry "80s small town dive bar". Let's take a tour:

Kuk's ceiling: '80s beer babes and disco ball...bring your dance moves on the weekend.

Another section of the ceiling

I love this tableau. Custer's Last Fight. The volleyball stud. The ski babe. The Rainier eye chart. Glorious!

The single bowling lane. Unfortuantely broken.

As you can tell from the extensive food menu, we came on the right day! Tacos are a once-a-week delicacy. 

Upon ordering both beer and water for the table, the waitress brought one glass each. I guess in America, you can be drunk or hydrated, but not both! The tacos were surprising tasty. Shell, meat, cheese, lettuce, and tomato is a fair bit for 50 cents (or 48.5 cents CAD). After a couple bites, I remarked that the taco "meat" was of a texture that I hadn't quite experienced in ground beef before. My Australia companion assured me it was just "ground really fine". I'm sure she's right...but then again, I doubt she's familiar with the finer textures of ground goat, cat, or whatever else the locals may have dragged in from the week's hunt!

Tacos. I thought I'd start with four. Al thought he'd start with 10. If you eat enough, you get your picture on a poster at the back!

Paying the bill at Kuk's. A pile of American and the better-looking Canadian bills in one harmonious pile.

And that sums up my international adventure for tacos. I'd like to close with the following quote from Bill Maher:

"New rule: If you're paying less than a buck for a taco, you can't be shocked that the meat in it isn't really meat. You're meal cost less than gum. There's a reason 'taco' spelled backwards is 'o, cat'."