The Good, the Bad, the Burrito

When I asked Daryl, one of my many brothers in culinary arms, to humour me with his lime marinated chicken burrito, he said to me, in his most appropriate, fatheaded voice: ‘It’s a tumultuous sunrise of vine ripened tomatoes.’ A beat. We both knew he could do much better. Mainly because, though there were tomatoes in the thing, they were a small part of it. That, and there was nothing tomato about the chicken.

	Ain't he handsome?

Attritional with his second attempt, Daryl did what he could to wow me with as much rhetorical bravado as all his years as a Sous could muster: ‘A tequila sunrise bathed in cilantro.’ A much more meaningful depiction, I thought. Still, I would have been somewhat more articulate. Perhaps, like looking at a tequila sunrise while bathing in a pool of cilantro? He disagreed, and I realized I’d become, like my professor pointed out to me years ago, a terrible concrete thinker, devoid of moving metaphor. When I think about it, a sunrise made out of tequila bathing in a sea of cilantro seems more flavourful than some dude watching it and sitting in it. Unless of course, cannibalistic urges make you in to that sort of thing. Aw, food. How divine.



Holy Guacamole isn’t anything out of the ordinary. And yet, as roundabout as it may seem, it does offer some unique character. Namely, that it is an assemblage of Tex Mex (how’s that for metaphor?). In its modest space of green tiles, warm coloured walls, spicy food photos, and hurried painted ceiling, it borrows from the conventions of this town’s sandwich assembly hideaways but with, you guessed it, Mexican sandwiches: or tacos, or burritos, or quesadillas, or whatever you call them. ¡Caramba! You can even get everything in those foreign wraps without the wraps themselves! Just a bowl full of fresh, Mexican fixin’s. How’s that for alliteration? How’s that for all you carb counters? You can even opt for wheat flatbreads. But I feel like I’m losing focus. The fixin’s are fresh. I can say that much. Holy Guacamole can say that much. Never frozen, always fresh. Even the bits of corn for a topping. Sweet kernals of corn. I believe it. Heck, I ate it. It’s simple food. Easy in its composition, civil in its choices. Quick food for vegetarians and omnivores alike. Daryl and I both thought the vegetarian option could be as satisfying as any meaty meal, what with choices of lettuce, tomatoes, red onions, cilantro, cheeses, jalepenos, cilantro lime rice, refried beans, black beans, sour cream, burrito sauce, hot sauce, a guacamole with a buttery texture and calm stoney flavor that uses its avocado character and nothing more; a good way for allaying any overpowering spiciness that may combine with it. And I can’t forget a typical, but well balanced salsa, furnished with ripe tomatoes, diced fine (thank Dios), cilantro, red onions, and lime juice. More impressively, the servers knew well enough to squeeze the juice out of it before putting it on my spread or otherwise have my burrito a juicy mess. But that didn’t affect the overall flavor of any of it. In fact, it was the pungent favourite of my first burrito. A packed roll of marinated chicken and choice fixings that I begged the help to choose for me. Cilantro lime rice, refried beans, cheese, burrito sauce, guacamole. A Fixing of flavours lost in the lake of Texcoc itself. Take that metaphor, Daryl.

Daryl and I agreed, the chicken was a little more minced than we would have liked, but still stayed true to the flavor it advertised itself as having. Daryl loved the rice, I recalled wanting it a little less cooked, the gobby nature of my burrito being too soft for my liking, though still kept in check by my wheat wrap. But this is no fault of HG. That’s what I call it now: HG. No, no. It takes some consumer responsibility. HG can be a very empowering place. Offering you the option of making your own fare. The choice, and fault is all yours. Still, with fresh ingredients and bright, pleasing acidic flavours, it takes a lot to screw up. My advice? Treat whatever future wrap like a good pasta sauce. Simple, and focused on one discernable flavor, or a few that compliment whatever meat goes in it (or roasted vegetables).

My second round wrap consisted of the Mexican pulled pork. A burrito that felt right in my heavy hand. And though intentionally packed with pulled pork, still not messy. My only qualm, maybe even Daryl’s too, once I convinced him, was the not unflavourful, but unwelcomed processed flavor used for the pork. It was a strange familiarity of nameless spices, hot, peppery, chalky in composure, perhaps earthy in fantasy. Like the stuff you get in packs for taco meat. If we’re wrong and unfamiliar with the flavours of chipotle, we firmly apologize. But we have experienced and vagabond-like palettes. Or at least we like to think so. But the worst is over and very difficult to come by. Fear not, dear eaters, you’re in good hands at Holey Guacamole. Repent, and the spirit of Tex Mex will set you free. Free from all those gyros, subs, and pitas you’ve had in your regretful past.

	The End. (I've always wanted to write that in company with a pretentious food photo.)

Holy Guacamole
519 513-2495
8 Duke Street East Kitchener

Mondays thru Wednesdays from 1100am until 600pm
Thursdays and Fridays from 11am until 700pm

Any payment

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