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This was one of those
serendipitous finds that make you realize that you haven't been to
like two percent of the places in The City. What was a first-time
find for me seemed like a cult following to most everyone else in
there. Making sense of the handwritten signs, bizarre line construction
and general chaos of the tiny place was a challenge that honestly
made this rookie a little nervous. I don't love to be rushed when
I make my menu choices, and often end up ordering some seriously gross
shit because of it, but I certainly felt the pressure here. After
raising my blood pressure to ungodly levels, I settled on the chicken
mole burrito--always a good call. I swear like twelve other people
tried to take my order, but after biting some aggressive chick in
a pinstriped pantsuit on the wrist and resting my burrito out of her
grimy clutches, I dashed from the joint like I ate a whole vat of
black beans. I had about ten minutes to find a place to eat this thing
(which, in the bag, seemed to weigh about as much as a Jack Russell
Terrier) before I had to get to a hair appointment, and sidled up
to a table at that weird little park thing on 9th Ave. and 57th. In
my haste to get out of there, I failed to secure even close to enough
napkins. If you don't know, mole sauce is very, very messy. I pulled
out the massive filled tortilla and realized right away that it was
gonna be interesting. The thing was tasty, and had I more paper products,
more time and a stomach twice the size; I would have been able to
finish the thing. As it stood, I finished about half of it, wiped
my hands on this really fat chocolate lab that somebody let sit too
close to me and felt completely okay with that because the price was
like half of what you'd pay normally for a burrito of that length
and girth. [MF]
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