Eugenia called me "monstruo por la plancha" a monster on the grill.
We had a six-foot-by-four-foot (2-by-1.5-meter) flattop grill over gas jets fueled by bombonas (the butane gas canisters ubiquitous in an old city unserved by gas pipelines) as well as four burners far side, two microwaves back of the shop, a gassen broiler over toward the dining area, two deep-fryers to the right of the service window, and a cold table to their left.
My specialty, as Eugenia said, was the grill.
During the short time that I was working at Mex Rock, it was one of only a few jobs where I've felt extremely alive, where the process was electric, and where the adrenaline flowed in a spastic burst of energy that sustained... doing multiple tasks at the same time; working beyond the capacity of my mind to comprehend what all I was doing. Hard to describe. The mind opens, because it has no capacity to be shut, and the vulnerability to error is what you have to float upon; but you're moving so fast that you don't sink. It's gratifying, and a reason that food service can be addictive.
This carry-on at Mex Rock, to my particular delight, was all in the Spanish language. I'm rather proud of that, because I didn't speak Spanish when I went to Seville. I believe that in the incredible, short, love-hate time that I had at el restaurante, I exposed my mind to a great bit of information about how to speak and learn Spanish.
And I slung, flipped, and delivered the hot Mexican entrées with a skill that I consider one of my best kitchen performances, happy for that short time to be able to work with in such manic, relaxed confidence.
Eugenia concurred; I was good at it however briefly.
I worked at Mex Rock in the Spring of 2001, and lived in Seville from December 2000 until June of 2001.