Back home in sunny (way East) Los Angeles and the first thing on my mind is when and where are we going to get Mexican food? And while a lot of food scream I’m an LA original, there’s nothing like a California burrito to remind me of my girlish high school figure. Unfortunately, everything I currently eat sits on my hips and will pass those cherished moments onto my great-grandchildren. So, if I may…
This is your great-grandmother writing to you about a California Burrito I just ate at the fanciest outpost of Albertos located in a food court in Victoria Gardens, an outdoor mall in sprawling Rancho Cucamonga (a real place that sounds imaginary). A regular burrito consists of a large tortilla filled with rice, beans, salsa and your choice of meat (I chose carnitas).
But a burrito with the namesake of the greatest state of these United States, ahem California, come intertwined with deep fried potato sticks or Freedom Fries if you despise the French, like many say they do in front of their friends.
In the past, we ate “real” food instead of soylent, pills, and powders like you may be consuming for health and longevity unlike the lard-asses of yesteryear. Your descendants ate for flavor, mouthfeel, loneliness and other buried feelings despite our declining health. We’re very sorry we ate so much and left the future with nothing.
Great Grandma Charm