Chips

So, after a night of heavy drinking, Yoshimi served us Tostitos with "a hint of lime."

a. More than a hint, these had a definite TASTE of lime.

b. Awesome in a bag.

c. Buy them.

d. I will regret said drinking in the morning (more morning), but not the chips.

Fabi's is Fabulous

I loved Fabi's. I loved that I got a real dinner with the burrito equivalent of a fruit roll-up as garnish. I loved the green salsa. I loved how all the items on my veggie combo plate didn't have the same three ingredients over and over. I loved the decor. I loved our server, who was not hostile.

I am disagreeing with Mary on this one. I thought the cheese was lovely, and my food was adequately spiced. And each item tasted completely different--how often does that happen with veggie food at a burrito place?

Contrary to Mary's pictures, the decor was quite bright and colorful. Although her camera is accurate in that I have morphed into a dark and shadowy figure since my escape from art camp.

If you've forgotten any of the characters' names in Shark Tale, go to the ladies bathroom at Fabi's and check out the helpful instructional poster.

I would take a date here. I would take two dates here. I would probably not take Mary here, because of her flauta thing.

Returning to Burrito-land

I'm at the Burlington Airport, waiting for my connecting flight to DC, so I can finally, finally make it back to Chicago and burritos.

So, all that thrifting and rummage sale-ing in the mountains of Vermont for clean clothes...got me pulled aside by airport security for the ol' pat-down. Imagine, me, a five-foot tall white girl looking scary enough to get picked out of the crowd. Dude, they picked ME!

As I sit here recovering from the indignity of having my butt touched and my pockets emptied, I'm feeling a strange sense of pride. I mean, I've quite the outfit on today. I'm looking forward to Mary picking me up so she can get a good laugh out of it. Dude, I look like an extra in Cold Mountain. I look like I escaped from artist camp. I need a burrito. And a beer. Because I totally haven't been drinking enough out in the backwoods of Vermont.

Recycled Squash

VSC has a penchant for recycling. So I shouldn't have been surprised when taco night became burrito night two days later. These burritos were kind of funny...I don't think real Mexican food exists in the great state of Vermont. They had Monterrey Jack, black beans, and (wait for it) acorn squash seasoned with cinnamon and brown sugar (also left over from a previous dinner). I appreciated the fresh avocados laid out prettily for us to tong onto our plates, and the sour cream with green chunks (parsley?) was lovely the second time around, too. Still, the result was sweet and not at all Mexican-like. The burritos came with corn on the cob and lemon cake. Funny, right?

The mistake of the poorly designed tortilla was not repeated. The burrito wraps were nicely browned, and not a drip fell onto my Vermont garage sale outfit.

I'm getting sick of all the French-y food. Someone, for the love of all that is holy and good, take me out for a real pizza (or burrito) when I get back.

On the other hand, the chef took me for a nice drive through the wilderness today to gaze upon mountains, foliage, waterfalls, and cemeteries in the middle of nowhere. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I might be able to live without real burritos if it means I can live inside all this prettiness. But mama needs money and a J-O-B, so we'll shelf the pipe dream for the time being.

The Double D

When I get home, for the love of god, Deluxe Diner better be open.

Burritos (sort of) at VSC

At summer camp, taco night was an inevitablity, deviously designed by camp administrators to cure adolescent girls of their bashful constipation. Horse camp + public bathrooms + adolescent angst = no pooping. But on taco night, all hell broke loose. I won a fistfight once at summer camp. For a bathroom stall on taco night.

Here at VSC, everyone poops normally. A lovely gentleman by the name of Bill confessed that all this healthy food and scheduled activity in the land of granola-heads was giving him frighteningly regular bowel movents. Like, I eat dinner at 6:15, go to the slideshow at 8:00, crap at 9:32, and fall asleep promptly at 11:05.

So it took them almost two weeks to break out the tacos. Technically, taco night consisted of non-heated, store-bought tortillas and salad-bar style ingredient bowls. So it could have been tortilla night. Or burrito night. Or whatever you normally call your favorite Mexican food wrap.

Other than the tortillas sucking and the rice being a healthy brown instead of a taco-appropriate Spanish style, taco night was a success. Most resorted to using forks when the tortillas failed to hold up under the weight of saucy black beans, guac, pico, red and green salsa, and anything else you could want. They made a fish mix for the meatheads, too.

Taco night, incidentally, happened right after David's performace piece in which he did naked yoga in the river. The title of the performance: What People Really Do in Vermont.

A World Devoid of Burritos

So, there are no burritos to be found in the four square blocks of Johnson, Vermont. And the Studio Center leans toward more French-inspired caferteria fare. What's a girl to do in a world devoid of burritos? Read about them online, of course.

http://www.littleburro.com/

This is a website devoted to a book about finding the perfect burrito. It invites users to post their favorite burrito places in other parts of the world. The Chicago burrito recommedations have a La Pasidita theme going, proving that Mary might have good taste after all...

At dinner tonight in the VSC cafeteria, we talked about things we are homesick for. A month is a long time to be in the middle of nowhere, I guess. After discussing our pets at great length (thankfully, no pictures came out), we decided we missed vodka, cable tv, sex, and frozen pizza. And now I miss burritos. (But I miss tacos more.)

I have discovered Pumpkinhead Ale, however, which is getting me through those long and lonely burrito-less nights. And yes, beer that tastes like pumpkins is good. Very good.