My editor and our resident food and restaurant connoisseur wasn't convinced either. The claim of freezerlessness sparked a department-wide conversation.

"No freezer, no way," said a co-worker.

"Not possible," said another.

Oh, but it is possible, and very true.

I learned this after Greg Yamin, one of the owners of Moe's in Guilderland, gave me a customer, not a journalist a kitchen tour. After I questioned the lack of an icebox, Yamin showed off the tidy walk-in fridge.

No freezer. No microwave.

Just lots of prepared-today traditional Mexican-style food such as tacos, burritos, quesadillas and fajitas.

Walk in the door and the young, hip staff calls out "Welcome to Moe's," like fans chanting for their team. No matter what your mood, it's hard not to crack a smile. It's weird, unexpected, quirky and downright funny.

That attitude keeps on going with the menu.

Ordinary it is not. Quirky names like Joey Bag of Donuts, Close Talker, Homewrecker and The Other Lewinsky are listed on the menu board. Fun names to go with a fun place.

Want a cup of fat? That'll cost you $9.99. For that 10-spot, the staff tells you to check out the fast food joint down the road. That's right: Like the lack of a freezer, Moe's wants nothing to do with lard.

After landing at a Moe's in North Carolina early this summer, I'd raved about it to my friends long before it showed up in Guilderland. The oddball nature of it all made me feel like I was stuck in an episode of "Seinfeld," "Friends" and "Happy Days" all at once.

Good shows, good place.

I recruited my friend Laurie and her boyfriend, Scott, to check out the restaurant with me. Their first date three years ago was over tacos and burritos at a place far less inventive than Moe's.

From appetizers to dessert, we ordered from each category on the menu, then watched as our meals were built for us, Subway-style. More tomatoes? Sure thing. Light on the onions? You bet. Chicken and beef? OK, but it'll cost you.

I was tempted to go Buck Naked, but resisted. No worries, Mom: That means a burrito in a bowl virtually carb-free. While I got over asking for the Full Monty, I just go that extra (verbal) step.

An abundant dinner for three, including two sodas and a big Village Idiot (that would be a Moe-rita) and cookies came to $36.29.

Big hit: The food, the staff, the atmosphere

Needs work: We tried to find something. Really, we did. But they've got a good thing going.

Info: Cash, major credit cards; handicapped accessible

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