Day 110: Screw It, Let’s Talk Quesadillas
There’s total fucking chaos descending on the nation right now. I’ve spent the last 3 hours refreshing and sharing tweets with my sister. It’s hard to get my head out of the news. It’s even harder to ignore the fact that some people reading this support the angry mob of crybabies. So instead of alienating my audience by calling a fraction of you a bunch of brainwashed shitheads, I turned to my sister for advice:
You know what? She’s right. FUCK QUESADILLAS!
I, too, found myself in this predicament today. I was very close to pulling the trigger on a chicken quesadilla and then I remembered it’s a quesadilla. It always sounds like a good idea but I’m hardly ever glad that I had one. Usually, they are used as lame cop-outs for restaurants to use up their leftover meat and cheese. This is especially true in the midwest. Stale frozen tortillas, day old meat and a pound of cheese. This was a bar staple in my twenties and I never considered that maybe I deserved better.
The real problem is that I like the idea of a quesadilla. It has all of my favorite things in one. It’s portable, clean and extremely easy to dip into sour cream. It’s basically my dream food. But it simply never works out. If it’s a clean eat, the meat is too dry. If the meat is fresh, it becomes too messy. Cheese quesadillas are a bonafide death wish and vegetable quesadillas are for suckers. There’s almost no way to be satisfied with a quesadilla.
But there is one quesadilla out there that makes my heart sing. It’s at a tortilla factory off Morgan Ave. It’s definitely not a legal operation, as you have to write down your order on note cards and it’s BYOB. But this is the only place that I have ever found a good quesadilla. And it only seems to be a quesadilla in size. It’s essentially an oversized taco. And it’s fucking perfect. For $4, you can fill yourself up on a quesadilla-sized taco. You can even bring a bottle of whiskey for the occasion. It’s heaven on earth. It’s everything that a quesadilla should be. It’s…just an oversized taco. Don’t believe me? You can see the difference!
Here’s a picture of me after eating a regular quesadilla. Disappointed, disheveled, fat and defeated.
Now, here’s me after eating a good quesadilla. Notice how I’m smiling. I’m clean-cut, jovial and ready to take on the world. I fucking love that guy. I wish I could see that guy more often. Maybe I should call him sometime.
Who knows, maybe us gringos have been getting quesadillas wrong this whole time. Maybe they are meant to be giant tacos. If that’s the case, I am certainly entitled to hundreds of refunds. I will no longer cower and obey to calling of Sham Quesadillas. And I hope you all join me. Us as Americans deserve much better. We shall spit on your gelatinous glob of cheese. We will send back your weak ass microwaved “steak”. We want lettuce on it and pico de gallo. We want to feel good about ourselves afterwards. We want cojita cheese. WE WANT REAL QUESADILLAS, DAMNIT!!!
But please, stop storming the Taco Bell. Go home. I love you and you’re special.