Let me just say that I’ve been to Santa Fe and know what a real burrito tastes like. I’ve had breakfast burritos there that tasted better than a top of the line steak dinner at [insert over-priced foodie trend-hole here]. The Mexican and Spanish south of the border know what they’re doing when it comes to steaks, to be sure, but more importantly, they know how to make a decent burrito.

Coming back to Canada, I went on an extensive search to find the perfect burrito (breakfast and otherwise) and while not the most gourmet of foods, when it’s late at night, you’ve been writing, drawing, or out having a few drinks with friends, there’s nothing like picking up something that not only simply tastes good, but sticks to your ribs in a most satisfying way.

Anyway, a lovely little Ecuadorian coffee shop opened across the street from me and thanks to my friend Diliana, I have found the equivalent of the breakfast burrito I had been so longing from my mornings in Santa Fe. In my joy, I foolishly (not to the owners of espresso mi vida, of course) extolled the virtues of this delicious café to my co-workers and now, every Friday, the morning ritual from Santa Fe is now taking place here.

Regarding the beef and bean or bean and cheese delights previously mentioned, I have yet to find anything comparable and yet, believe it or not, the closest I can get to something as simple, is the packaged bean and cheese or beef and bean burritos you find at your local supermarket.

All they contain are refried beans, some spices and cheese. Don’t start squawking about the preservatives or I’ll go into a tirade about the life-span of the average pioneer settler. They used to sell these at 7-11 and so one dark night after getting a craving for these microwaved bombs of refried beans, I reluctantly made my way to the only place open at half-past midnight.

To my disappointment, they did not have any of the average junk-food burritos I desired. Instead, they had another proprietary brand called “Big Eats” by 7-11 themselves. Weighing the options I thought, how bad could it be considering I once found a bone nub in one of my favored packaged burritos of yore. I mean, how badly can one mess up a bean and cheese burrito? (Yes, you’re about to find out how…)

Here’s the packaging below. I refused to eat any of this tortilla-wrapped vomit after my first wary bite.

And now, you may see for yourselves how the idiots at 7-11 head office has ruined a perfectly good fast food item. (Click on it for a nice close examination. I didn’t eat any of it. Go’wan, you know you want to.)

Looks like roadkill doesn’t it? Like someone backed over a human body several times. One that contained giant toads in each pocket. Every restaurant and foodstuff manufacturer seems to think that the trick to recreating “Southwestern” style edibles is to add all manner of debris that have no part in the cooking of certain dishes down there. It reminded me of a crappy little chain restaurant I used to live near that put green peppers in everything, save the creme bruleé.

If I were a scientist, I would have rushed down to the lab and liquified this trash just to separate the chunks of spanish onions, cooking onions, red peppers and green peppers from what’s left of the actual bean matter and non-existent cheese. I’m just curious that way.

Currently, I am suffering from heart-burn and nausea. (I seriously only had one bite.)

7-11. Next time you try to make an actual product, instead of just getting some zombified dope behind the counter to sell them, please for god’s sake, take my burrito recipe. It’s yours.

Tortilla Shell
Refried Beans
Cheddar Cheese

And one last thing. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT heat for 45 seconds like the packaging says. Unless you think you could eat the above cold.

When we were kids, we snuck up into my friend’s parent’s garage attic to listen to one of the “forbidden” albums (yes, before CDs) of a man who not only encompassed ribald rebellion, but honesty in it’s purest form: wit.

One of my heroes is dead.

“Not with your fingers, Spangler! That’s all you understand - things you eat with your hands whilst walking down the street.” - Albert Spica, The Cook The Thief His Wife and Her Lover

I like restaurants. I love eating out. There is just something so civilized about preparing to go out, meeting with a dear friend or acquaintances and having discussion while dining.

I am entirely uncomfortable eating outside. I abhor picnics and patio dining. I cannot wolf down pizza on a park bench or loiter on a street corner while scarfing a hot dog “on the go”. I feel a tremendous pity when I see someone crunching away on a chocolate bar or a fetid, greasy hamburger while they stare vacuously into space waiting for the subway. To absent-mindedly fill your face with some generic matter is to me akin to fucking a stranger on a one-night stand. It’s childish and unsatisfying. An immediate pleasure, it’s pointlessness underlined by rapid consumption and subsequent abandonment.

Being able to focus on the matter at hand, the foreplay of small talk that leads down a road to deeper intimacy, comfortability washing over the group, laughter and merriment prodded by a little too much liquor, lover’s limbs secretly caressing under the table, knowing glances. The anticipation of a well prepared meal and the joyous carelessness of losing track of time, all while being served, waited on, is something to be savored.

To swill a rich glass of merlot or cold beer while enjoying the company of others, now that’s living.

(4:30:34 PM) bad unkle v2.0: at least when you fuck a horse you always know you have a ride home
(4:30:56 PM) BuCkSaTaN: booooooo! Hssssss!
(4:31:08 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Do you enjoy witty puns as well?
(4:33:35 PM) BuCkSaTaN: If that’s the calibre of this guy’s humor, I’ll stick with P.J. O’Rourke…
(4:33:52 PM) bad unkle v2.0: dont be a snob joe
(4:33:55 PM) bad unkle v2.0: its so 90’s
(4:34:02 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Being snobby?
(4:34:04 PM) bad unkle v2.0: yes
(4:34:18 PM) BuCkSaTaN: And here I thought it was so 17th century…

(9:58:52 PM) hideous hooligan: hey
(9:58:55 PM) hideous hooligan: tell me man
(9:58:58 PM) BuCkSaTaN: wot?
(9:59:03 PM) hideous hooligan: whats with yer head?

[pause]

(9:59:30 PM) BuCkSaTaN: I got a question for you man…
(10:01:06 PM) BuCkSaTaN: So what did you do today?
(10:01:13 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Did you eat your broccoli?
(10:01:18 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Did you smoke a doob?
(10:01:24 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Did you drink some beer?
(10:01:29 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Did you go online?
(10:01:35 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Did you eat a sandwich?
(10:01:40 PM) BuCkSaTaN: Did you go outside?

[hideous hooligan goes offline]

I’m about to relate a ghostly tale of such dread and poor craftsmanship, that whosoever ingests it, will be lured into a world of terror and bed-shitting. It is the tale of a man only known as “Pappy Jig“. Pappy Jig was the great, great, great Grandfather of the Hideous Hooligan of the East. Before the story of Pappy Jig unfurls, it’s probably best to give you some background on the Hideous Hooligan of the East.

In a village named Bonk Flung, many years ago, a wild haired and yet balding speed freak, the shaman of Bonk Flung, taught a Skinny White Young Man and the Hideous One about war and pestilence, of revolution and terrorism and other facts too obtuse to reiterate here. One day, the Hideous One, still an amateur grifter in his circles, began to whisper in the ear of the Skinny White Young Man.

“The Hideous One!…Using a Rod Of Iron, forged forward a world of the artistically insane…In one heartbeat, in one rapid eye movement…relocated his world, to the upper chamber of life…and incubated the Intellect of these Artistic Deviants…to a machine…called EV RI 1’s EGO….”

Skinny White Young Man thought the Hideous Hooligan insane, although he laughed with him regardless of his infliction. As Skinny White Young Man and The Hideous One made their way toward the edge a dark and mysterious wood, they began to stumble and fall. In the deep and dark bog of the Bonk Flung, the twosome tried to speak.

They could not. Their lips were sealed, their eyes bound by sharp and stabbing pain. Communication was garbled. Their minds were clouded. It was like that Metallica video. They were mute. Hideous One motioned to Skinny White Young Man and SWYM (which we will refer to Skinny White Young Man from here on out) realized that HH (which we will refer to the Hideous Hooligan from here out) were incapacitated. They were young. They were bored. They needed “Seven Eleven Big Gulps”.

To Be Continued.