A crummy day here in San Francisco; the wind is rattling the windows of my old house, and the lights are flickering with every gust. It's the kind of night when you want to curl up under the covers with a good book and a fat burrito.
I'm lucky enough to live a block from Cuco's, so I stumbled down there dodging flying debris, nearly deafened by the gunshot-rattle of the rain against my jacket. The place was as warm and welcoming as ever, and I felt right at home when the proprietress asked me if I was a big enough boy to handle spicy salsa alongside my carnitas.
"On a night like tonight?" I asked. "Heck yes."
Famous last words, usually. My last trip to Cuco's stripped the lining off of my esophagus. This time around it merely made me cry. I don't know what kind of peppers they use there, but I hope they cut 'em up with gloves on their hands.
P.S: Mad props to my pal the Burritoeater for his continuing efforts to reach out to the masses and give them an introduction to burritology. Check out the feature in Gelf and learn, grasshopper, learn.
I'm lucky enough to live a block from Cuco's, so I stumbled down there dodging flying debris, nearly deafened by the gunshot-rattle of the rain against my jacket. The place was as warm and welcoming as ever, and I felt right at home when the proprietress asked me if I was a big enough boy to handle spicy salsa alongside my carnitas.
"On a night like tonight?" I asked. "Heck yes."
Famous last words, usually. My last trip to Cuco's stripped the lining off of my esophagus. This time around it merely made me cry. I don't know what kind of peppers they use there, but I hope they cut 'em up with gloves on their hands.
P.S: Mad props to my pal the Burritoeater for his continuing efforts to reach out to the masses and give them an introduction to burritology. Check out the feature in Gelf and learn, grasshopper, learn.
