Burritos: a love story
When I first met burritos, their imposing circumference and weighty innards did nothing to water my mouth. I avoided the infant-sized "Mexican" creation, despite their accessibility.
No matter how often they came around, in my mom's kitchen, on my favorite restaurants' menus, I refused to give in. One time a burrito left roses on my doorstep. Still, no.
Then one Spring morn a burrito chain opened in my hometown. I was promised a free one and lunchtime hunger pangs -- and an empty wallet -- complied. The burrito I received -- a melting pot of black beans beans and rice and spicy chicken -- satisfied my appetite in a way I hadn't felt for a long time. It was love at first bite.
Also, later, it was indigestion and gas.
No matter how often they came around, in my mom's kitchen, on my favorite restaurants' menus, I refused to give in. One time a burrito left roses on my doorstep. Still, no.
Then one Spring morn a burrito chain opened in my hometown. I was promised a free one and lunchtime hunger pangs -- and an empty wallet -- complied. The burrito I received -- a melting pot of black beans beans and rice and spicy chicken -- satisfied my appetite in a way I hadn't felt for a long time. It was love at first bite.
Also, later, it was indigestion and gas.