Dorado No No

(My dad and I are visiting a small town in Mexico, and a fellow tourist advises us to go to a certain restaurant that has ‘the best tacos dorados in town.’ Having seen plenty of pictures of dorados around, and hearing some of the fish tales, we’re eager to try some and place our order.)

Waitress: “Carne o pollo?” *beef or chicken?*

Me: *confused* “Pescado.” *fish*

Waitress: *slower and louder* “Carne o pollo?”

Dad: “Dorado… pescado, si?” *dorado… fish, yes?*

(This maybe goes back and forth once or twice more until she rolls her eyes and leaves. We get our tacos shortly, but I notice something is off with the texture and, moreso, the consistency of the grease.)

Me: “This is chicken.”

Dad: “No, it’s fish!”

Me: “Fish doesn’t have grease like this. This is chicken fat.”

Dad: “No, it’s dorado.”

Me: “It’s chicken…”

Dad: “It’s fish!”

(Some months later, we are at a different town that sees much more tourism and has English menus, where I see ‘Tacos Dorados: Chicken or beef in a crispy golden shell.’ Dorado may be the name of a fish, but it is also the Spanish word for golden. We got a good chuckle out of it.)