There are times when a grumpy middle-aged gentleman needs a burrito.
A good burrito makes everything right with the world, functions as a magic substance, and is darn-near sacramental.
A good burrito is a blessing.
It was an excellent burrito: juicy carnitas, with everything extra cheese no beans, hot salsa, and chiles en escabeche on the side. Plus some extra super-hot salsa de Arbol to dribble on before each bite.
So much a beautiful meditative experience.
Un gran sabor picante.
While I was enjoying this epic masterpiece, two people came in to also have burritos.
One with cheese, beans, rice, no salsa no chiles; the other with beans and rice plus steamed broccoli, no dairy! And no salsa either!
Steamed broccoli is a white invention. Real people do not eat steamed broccoli. Plus how can you call it Mexican when you left out all of the flavour and all of the meat? What are you people? Goths?
Vegetarian cultists? You wanna look pale?
I thoroughly relished every bite of my non-Nordic burrito.
Those people may have been eating out of habit.
Without any feeling or commitment.
Steamed broccoli burrito.
Some people are insane.
The Atkins Diet Burrito, which they don't have yet, would probably make tonnes of profit. No tortilla, no rice, no beans. Just cheese and meat.
They should charge double (at least) the price of a normal burrito.
Because looking good of course had better cost you.
Beyond mere hoi polloi affordability.
It comes with a side of food-harangue.
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