The Burrito Blog
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The Height of Moe-deocrity
No such luck.
As I stood in line scanning the familiar tubs ingredients form which I would soon be creating my lunch, I noticed that all of the components look a little too much like stuff you could just buy at the grocery store. The cheese looked liked a generic bag of shredded cheese from the dairy aisle. The salsa looked like a bottle of Old El Paso spooned out into stainless steel bowl. The visual verdict: bland, unappealing, and average.
The taste verdict: the same. As I sat there eating my burrito in disappointment, I couldn't help but wonder if this is what the world is coming to. There was nothing wrong with the burrito, and nothing right with it either. I felt desperately trapped in the middle. I longed for the exciting flavors of Anna's Taqueria in Boston, or even Panchero's near my alma mater, the University of Michigan.
As my burrito began to deteriorate, rice tumbling from the top, and sour cream oozing through the tortilla, I felt myself going through the five stages of mourning. Denial and Isolation: the burrito wasn't that bad, I was being too hard on Moe's. Anger: was this the best Moe's had to offer? Was this the best Miami had to offer? Bargaining: What did I have to do to get a great burrito? Depression: perhaps it was me. Perhaps I lacked the ability to detect the quality of a burrito. Perhaps I should retire as a burrito analyst. Acceptance: finally, I sighed a sigh of submission. I would eat this burrito, but my search for Miami's best would not die as easily as I feared burrito standards had.
-Phil
Sunday, September 11, 2005 by Phil.