One of our pet peeves (a polite way to say 'things that piss us the hell off') is when people screw up Mexican food. That's because it takes either a complete nincompoop or someone who takes absolutely no pride in their work to do so. Think about it. How hard do you have to work to make something covered in cheese, salsa, sour cream, and guacamole actually taste bad?
Well, the morons at Baja Fresh Mexican Grill have reached new levels of depravity. Apparently bored with the run-of-the-mill menu, the employees of Baja Fresh on Miracle Mile decided to add some excitement to their lives by murdering their customers. Ok, maybe not actually murder--I guess attempted murder would be more accurate if we were to get all technical about it.
Do not take this warning lightly, my fiends. The beef fajitas ($8.99) we ordered were so undercooked that the beef was still wearing a bell. Now, damn it Jim, I'm not a doctor, but couldn't this have caused one of those cutely named, yet potentially deadly viruses such as E.coli or M.onchichi? The rice that came along with the disease-infested fajitas was so undercooked that we had to make an emergency dentist appointment. In a surprising twist, the chicken nachos ($7.49) had black tortilla chips--no, not black bean tortilla chips, just chips that had been sitting in the fryer since the Ford administration.
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To top it all off, when we requested our money back, the cashier disappeared only to resurface a few minutes later with news that was quite possibly even more offensive than the food. The manager had sent this poor, innocent lad to tell us that there was no way that our money could be refunded, but that we could have a future meal on the house. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
After counting backwards from 800 (it wasn't the kids fault), we
violently politely explained THAT WE NEVER WANTED TO EAT THERE AGAIN. And that the manager better come out from hiding if he knew what was good for him. A half hour later the kid came back and refunded our money, plus didn't ask us back for the little 'next meal on us' card he had given us. We kept it. The next time one of our frenemies pisses us off we'll hand them the card and then go establish an airtight alibi miles away. It'll be the perfect crime.