Are You Procrastinating? Me Too.

Given that finals are upcoming and my diet currently consists almost solely of chocolate covered espresso beans, hummus, and ice water, this is a blast from the past. Nevertheless, know that you are only getting the freshest of sass from yours truly.

Dish 79: Pork, Blackbean, and Plaintain Burrito at Pico de Gallo, 15th and South, 215-772-3003

Pico de Gallo is a tiny triangle shaped restaurant that I imagine is like a Mexican cousin of the Leaky Cauldron, that sort of dark, misshapen, knick-knacky space that spills out onto the sidewalk. It would be the perfect location to rent out for a small party when you get a little successful, but not too important that your friends won’t fit in the 250 square feet provided.

I always believed that burritos, like friendships, were about what’s inside; and last week’s Top Gun bromance between pork and plantains lead me to believe that burritos could be no more perfect than at Las Bugambilias. How wrong I was. Burritos ARE like friendships. However, we all know that friendships aren’t only about what’s inside; you would not be inclined to be friends with someone whose hygiene is unsound or who refuses to wear clothing. What’s on the outside matters. A lot. And Pico de Gallo has the, hands down, no contest, best tortillas in the city, without a comp in the bordering six states and probably not even among the mermaids of Mexican descent swimming around Lake Erie and making burritos from the five-legged frogs. Pico de Gallo’s tortillas are like big circular micro biscuits, like flaky, tender, buttery biscuits made just thicker than a normal tortilla. How they do it, I don’t know. Voodoo magic, probably. Maybe they kidnapped Mammy from Tara and made her transform soul food into a burrito only marginally smaller than a newborn baby. Whatever it was, the minute I finish my finals on Tuesday, Dani and I will be en route to Cinco de Mayo bliss, tequila in hand for some house-made margaritas.

**Pictures may be added later if UnIT is able to save my computer from certain death**

And for those who read my posts to procrastinate (you know who you are), some gifts:

A supercute one-eared badger:

For my literary dorks, Sassy Gay Friend, Othello:

For the boys, Winding Road’s review of the intoxicating 2010 CTS-V: (Only thing more drool-worthy than the city’s best burrito? Recaro seats.)


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