THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT

Earlier today I read about a burrito con carnitas y salsa picante, sin frijoles. It was just before lunch, which at that point promptly changed from a distant eventuality to an immediate imperative. Because I just purely love carnitas. As well as salsa picante. By which is often meant a zesty condiment that, contrary to the usual picco de gallo or salsa verde, consists of roasted chiles ground smooth.
Not the jalapeños with which most people are familiar, but something quintessentially exciting like chile perron, mirasol, or even habanero.
That ahumadic flavour, that wee bit of oomph.
About as close to heaven as can be.
Mas wonderful, dude.


Right now I am again thinking of a burrito with carnitas. Nay, I veritably lust after it. The prospect fills me with joy. There's a taqueria around the corner which has a lovely orange salsa picante. Perhaps I should get one to go, and eat it a bar filled with drag queens.
Around another corner.


"I've looked on a lot of women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times."
-----President Jimmy Carter, 1976.


Jimmy was a doofus. I like women -- very fond of them, in fact -- but unless the woman has that glow in her eyes that says "come here you intellectual hunk of hot brainy pipe-smoking masculinity, I really want to lick you but perhaps we should talk first", I am not likely to think of her as quite so lust-inducing as a 'nukyaler' engineer from deepest Georgia might. A good burrito, on the other hand, is more precious than rubies.

Much more attainable at eight-fifty PM on a Sunday night, too.
We'll save the pursuit of dating-material for daytime.
Keep the concept in the back of our mind.
I am a one-woman man.

But quite the burritoizer.


Burritos are something of which one can have multiples. A different burrito every week. Burritos never break your heart, or toy with your affections.
With a good burrito I shall not fear commitment. Nor will the saucy comestible ever be an embarrassment or demanding.

I wouldn't mind sharing a burrito with a nice woman -- especially one who thought I was altogether rather scrumptious to hang with -- but I would probably insist on buying her a tasty burrito of her very own.
Burritos are rather personal objects, you see.

It's about choices.


I am man enough to enable another burrito lover.
Madam, your burrito looks adorable.
Here, have some salsa.
Yum.



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