So when Wifey and I embarked on our quest to limit our gustatory expenditures to but a fifth per diem, we found that it was pouring, pouring so badly that the Steinway street festival was rained-out, many of the tents lowered to half-staff to prevent the torrential splashage, so that only feets and the wet bottoms of peasant skirts could be seen, even the barbecue cage for country steak a la llanera, though we did make it to the ill-sitting grease of taco-bell.