One of our saving graces when we’re at our most exhausted and/or broke is the neighborhood Mexiteria, which makes burritos that are delicious, massive, and cheap. I can’t say how much one weighs, but, in a decidedly unscientific experiment, we have determined that three of them are heavier than our wiry, high-strung housecat (which tips the scales at a spokesmodel-thin 4½ pounds and is not a fan of the experimental method).
Whatever its exact mass, each burrito is a formidable slab of exquisite beany goodness. I can usually finish one, but rarely in one sitting. Generally, I get most of the way through and then get up and walk around for a bit until my digestive tract realigns and I can return to the table.
When the family decides to have a Burrito Night, we’ve heretofore been able to buy two of them and split them three ways. Last night, however, we were feeling a little extra beanworthy and decided to plunk for a third. We placed one in front of Kid Knievel, just to see what kind of damage he could do, and he finished it. In one go. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t watched it myself, my jaw dangling helplessly in my lap.
As I think ahead to the kind of daily cash outlay I'll have when my kids are teenagers, I suddenly have the impression that, when it’s finally time to try to pay for college, the
tuition might come as a welcome discount from our monthly grocery bill.
