When you enter the Mercado San Jose, a Hispanic grocery, deli and short-order grill in southwest Little Rock, there is much to distract.
   How much is that lucha libre pinata dangling from the ceiling? How many soccerfan magazines can one thumb through on his lunch hour? How unfair, and how much of a calculated risk, is it that the market's proprietors have stationed the panaderias cases, resembling a phalanx of portable closets positioned shoulder-to-shoulder, right there in the entry? Man cannot live on bread alone, but eating nothing but pineapple turnovers and pink-taffy-colored butter cookies is a good way to go out.
   It's a good thing, then, that the linoleum at the foot of the baked goods is printed with a series of red and green arrows, guiding the way to, according to the lettering also underfoot, tacos... burritos... tortas. The grill area of the market is something more than a meal counter but something less than a restaurant. There are tables and chairs hand-painted in festival colors, a lively jukebox and a view into the cake decorating station, a garrett of decorative gewgaws. The back wall is a gallery of ladies in waiting, doll heads in cellophane bubbles, soon to be topping multitiered cakes that will billow below them like a mile of hoop skirt.
   There are many good reasons to stay, but if you have a good enough reason to leave, the cook will be happy to wrap up your order, which in our case happened to be a chicken quesadilla, a single tamale and a bottle of orange Jarritos soda, which came to $6.45. (Other choices, which are illustrated with laminated photographs across the countertop, include a platter featuring an entire fish, eyeballs and all, that we will probably never be adventurous enough to try, and, to drink, the full rainbow of Jarritos flavors, glass liter bottles of Pepsi and a fountain drink machine with mango and tamarind nectar.)
   Another shrewd move: Togo customers pay at the grocery counter, requiring another trip past the pastries (and past the butcher case, where the fish heads will seem to be following you). We grabbed a thick golden cookie, the size and heft of a hamburger patty, that had been coated in multi-color sprinkles (40 cents).
   The meal seemed to promise a rangy quality, and the prospect of eating it while leaning against a car hood was a romantic notion but also an unnecessary one. (There is no shade in the Mercado San Jose parking lot.) Instead we drove through the Cloverdale neighborhood to nearby Ottenheimer Park and settled into a picnic table nestled between a pond and a merry-go-round where children can ride brightly painted missiles, as cartoonishly nonthreatening as the pinata of the papier-mache Mexican wrestler back at the market.
   The carton containing the larger order, the quesadilla, opened to reveal a juicy tomato slice, a small scribble of lettuce under a dollop of sour cream, a helping of rice and the quesadilla itself, sectioned into four wedges of perfectly grilled tortilla, charred to a healthy sandy complexion everywhere the flour hadn't dimpled away from the grill. Inside was a market-fresh blend of diced tomato, onion and cilantro, marinated chicken and a creamy cheese sauce that created some of the best quesadilla filling we've had in Little Rock. The tamale, which had added a mere $1 to the tab, was a pungent, husk-wrapped pocket of pork and cornmeal, accompanied by a thimble-size cup of tart tomatillo salsa.
   Around us, life in the park followed the natural order. Older women cast fishing line into the pond while younger women arrived to kvetch about their boyfriends. "That is ridiculous with a capital R-I-D," one of them complained to another. From where we sat, the complete experience was ridiculously refreshing, with a capital -- well, you know.
   Mercado San Jose, 7411 Geyer Springs Road, Little Rock, (501) 565-4246 Spork Report is a monthly take on takeout. E-mail your favorite Styrofoam stop-offs to:
   

kbrazzel@arkansasonline.com

This story was published Friday, June 02, 2006