Burrito Smell
Imagine you and your roommate have been carousing late into the night, when your roommate decides she’d really like some food from a substandard franchise we will call, for the sake of this scenario, Burrito Smell.
First of all, you have no business eating at Burrito Smell, a national, Americanized blot masquerading as Mexican food. You live in a region where you can get some of the best Mexican food ever. Ever. Short of Mexico.
Now Burrito Smell will do in a pinch if you live in Michigan, Indiana, or in fact anywhere else except California or other states bordering Mexico. But you still know it’s not real Mexican food. Burrito Smell also will do in a pinch if it’s very late, you’ve been out at the bar, and few other options are available.
There are a handful of 24-hour Mexican fast food joints that you’ve come to know and love. The food can be fast, though if you try going at 2 a.m., chances are it might not be that fast. But there will be a lot of it, it will be cheap, and it will be hot. And that is key. And you don’t think too much about the possible code violations or that the restaurant looks like it died in 1970. That’s OK. As long as you don’t mind being the fourth or fifth car in the drive-through, waiting for 20 minutes, because it’s after when the bars close … fine.
So then there’s Burrito Smell. While you tend to avoid fast food and national franchises, you don’t object to the idea of a hot caramel apple empanada. Which your roommate says is excellent hot, but you have never successfully gotten one hot, so you don’t know for sure. Because Burrito Smell specializes in somewhat fast, but almost never warm, food.
You search out the nearest Burrito Smell. The drive-through lane is empty. Hurray. The roommate tries to order food.
“We’re unable to serve food at this time,” comes the tinny voice.
“What? Isn’t this place open 24 hours? That’s what the sign says. Why don’t you have food?”
“We’re unable to serve food at this time,” the voice repeats.
“You’re open 24 hours.” She’s good at winning arguments, and this is something she thinks is pretty clear. But winning this one is not to be.
“Yes. But … sometimes we’re unable to serve food.”
“Why? You’re supposed to be open!”
“Let’s put it this way … I wouldn’t serve this food to anybody right now.”
We gather this means that something is old or bad or something. Or maybe they’re not interested in serving food and this is a way to discourage us from ordering it. The roommate thanks the kid for his honesty and you and your roommate begin to laugh, leaving the drive-through without any food.
The roommate is not deterred, and knows of another Burrito Smell that is open 24 hours, and is on the way home. All you want is a fabled caramel apple empanada. Simple enough.
“Excuse me,” your roommate says to the next disembodied voice. “I’ve got a strange question for you. Are your caramel apple empanadas fresh?”
“What?”
“Are they fresh? Are they hot? Or have they been sitting around all night?”
“Yeah…” Pause. “I guess they’re fresh.”
“No, are they fresh? I’m kinda weird about this. Are they fresh?”
The voice sounds irritated, sounds like it’s coming from a pimply 16-year-old kid who will say anything to get us out of his drive-through window so he can get back to wanking off.
“Yeah, I guess they’re fresh.”
“OK. I’ll have two caramel apple empanadas. And that’s it.”
“Anything else?” Bored. Doesn’t care. Wasn’t listening.
“No.”
On receiving the pastries, you take a bite of yours, hoping that your instinct will be wrong. And it’s not. Lukewarm. Sitting around all night. At least the other guy had been honest. And then you feel lucky that you didn’t want anything with meat that could’ve killed you because it’d sat at room temperature all night.
Makes something to giggle over. But I still haven’t had a hot caramel apple empanada. Maybe it comes from ordering late most times, but maybe it just comes from the sort of teenage apathy expected at Burrito Smell and other restaurants just like it.
My best friend and I used to say to get a job at Burrito Smell, you’d have to be able to spell your name with fewer than four mistakes. I think they just look for warm bodies for cold food.
Come on, you can name the restaurant, can’t you? This is a blog, not a consumer information radio program!
That was a pretty creative name you came up with, however. I like the Mexican pizzas served by Burrito Smell; that’s about all I ever buy there, except maybe some nachos and cheese if I am feeling a bit peckish on my drive home from work. Hispanic restaurants are a dime a dozen in the Washington area, as well, but they don’t serve Mexican pizza or nachos to go. So, it’s off to Burrito Smell in those cases. Our Hispanic restaurants are more likely to be Guatamalan or Nicaraguan, too, because those are the most common immigrants in this area. Lots of “Pollo Asado” takeout places in the D.C./Virginia/Maryland area.
It’s more fun to give them an alternative name that is also descriptive.
This is a little weird, but I’m going to say it anyway. I’m actually intimidated by having to order new things because it invariably involves asking what goes in it.
So if I go to Burrito Smell, for example, and want to try their Nachos Bell Grande, I’d have to ask. And that involves trying to get an intelligent answer from a teenager with the brain the size of a pea. Usually a half-mumbled answer then completely obliterated by static.
This fear spreads to any place with a drive-through lane. So I’d love to try something else from one of those non-chain places open 24 hours, but I can’t bring myself to ask.
I also feel like the drive-through employees don’t have enough patience. If I ask for a moment to ponder my selection, I have the suspicion that I’ll never hear from them again. I do usually have to say, ok, I’m ready, three or four times before anyone answers.
Sure, I could go in, but if it’s very late, the inside is already closed.
There’s a chain, btw, of places here called El Pollo Loco, which apparently means the Crazy Chicken. Haven’t eaten there, but the name makes me giggle.
There’s also The Green Burrito, which is paired with Carl’s Jr., usually. And Carl’s Jr., to those back east, as near as I can tell, is our Hardees.
Yes, Carl’s Jr. is our Hardee’s…has to be, what with the colors and the little star and all…
I don’t think I would have gone to the second Burrito Smell had I been the two of you, not after being warned away from the first one. Not sure whether to think of you as brave or, well, kinda stupid
The one thing I do like from Burrito Smell is the 7-Layer Burrito, and while I don’t eat fast food these days if I can help it, I’d say I get one of these maybe twice a year.
I’m so lucky to have a dear friend who owns a taqueria in Lansing. I still need to learn to make some foods from her.
Ooooh, taqueria. I always get some good food in one of those.
And Dawn–yeah, you’re right. Stupid. And flush with drink.
Maybe the “flush with drink” explains it. Everything tastes better with booze. When I smoked, I’d chain-smoke when I was at a bar or club. Cigarettes never tasted that good sober.
Burrito Smell is one fast food place that I avoid as much as I can. (Listen to me…”as much as I can”, as though I am compelled to eat there from time to time)
Having lived in CA for many years and having moved back to the Midwest, I miss all of the real good fast Mexican food. The Roberto’s, Ramberto’s, Alberto’s, Rubio’s and Umberto’s taco stands located on every corner from San diego to Santa Monica were fast and convenient - not to mention great Mexican fare.
Thanks for reminding me…:)