It was a few days before shelter-in-place began and I needed to get out of my apartment. I strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan, through the West Village, and stepped into Los Mariscos, still noisy and packed as ever just days before the city shut down.

I felt better, crammed between two wide-shouldered men — both of them well into their third and fourth tequila flights — at the restaurant’s bar. I watched as three cooks stood working hip-to-hip