Three years ago I left my home state of California on a journey across this great nation and arrived in Norfolk Virginia. My partner is in the Navy and so our options for our next tour were only so limited. Plenty of military friends and colleagues told us to avoid Norfolk for reasons that seemed silly to us at the time, but what they did not warn us about was the lack of authentic Mexican food.
I have lived in other states and areas in the country but I never seemed to miss California. I also found a way to fit in. I did not notice it when I moved here, but something would be missing from my life and the hole would continue to grow until it became unbearable.
The hole in my life that has caused me to feel out of place isn’t simply just the food. Its what the food represents, and that’s family. I’m not talking about your typical tacos or enchiladas. What I am referring to is the labor-intensive Mexican food that my family would slave over for days. I’m talking your “mole poblano” or your hand made tortillas (corn, not that flour rubbish), or at the very least home made chips.
Recently when my partner came back from a deployment overseas he mentions that he saw one of his friends post a picture on Facebook from a Mexican restaurant we have never heard of and he says “it looked really good.” Upon arriving at Jessy’s Taqueria, I knew this was the place. To a Virginian, this place probably seems tacky, obnoxious, and loud and to be fair, they are not wrong. But the Spanish culture is loud, they can be obnoxious, and their lives are filled with color. In Spanish we say “good day” not “hello” so we automatically set ourselves up for a good day.
Like any true Mexican restaurant worth a damn, Jessy’s Taqueria also functions as a market. Also like any true Mexican restaurant, it is family run and they are not afraid to show it. My first trip there was on a Sunday afternoon. We walked in to find the line was out the door and the wait would likely be around an hour. Despite the nagging hunger in my stomach, we decided to wait it out. Just in our time waiting I noticed several young children bringing out fresh pastries to the bread and pastry cabinet. What I’m guessing to be their mother was working the cash register of the store was shouting every so often for them to do this or that, and they silently obeyed.
Wondering around I noticed the store was reminiscent of some of the stores I grew up in. Tacky piñatas, random costume masks, and religious paraphernalia filled the store walls up to the ceiling. I couldn’t help but feel like the store was this family’s desperate attempt to reconnect with their home, much like I try to reconnect with mine.
The food was everything I had hoped for and even more. Home made salsa, home made mole, and of course home made chips. After we stuffed our bellies full, we convinced ourselves to indulge in buying a few of the Mexican pastries to take home and eat later and of course every bite of those brought me right back to some of my favorite places in Watsonville California.
In the car ride home, I couldn’t help but feel that I have finally found some small piece of home. If you’re in need of a reminder what an amazing home cooked meal tastes like, then wonder over to Jessy’s and indulge.