I can't say that I've ever seen Zaragoza during the day. It must be a decent place for a quick cafe con leche, a shop to duck into for a can of chipotle peppers, where the sun shines into the well-swept corners. But I wouldn't know. Zaragoza, a Mexican bodega in the East Village, expresses itself best at night. The florescent lights of the bodega draw in all sorts of night owls: couples making their way back to the L train, club kids pouring out of the gay bar across the street, DJs with their gear. You can always find on an old drunk guy slumped over his tallboy in the corner and a cluster of folks dribbling salsa onto the sidewalk out front. When you're counting on the alcohol-absorption powers of tacos, it's the last stop before you turn in. More