Postcards From the Couch: Making lunch out of nothing at all

This whole Coronavirus shutdown is hard on everyone. I personally fear my cotton man-jammies may experience some sort of fusion with the fibers of my couch if I sit here much longer. And this is only day three.

And this kind of situation makes food nerds such as myself realize how much more I should appreciate the dining experiences we have here in the Louisville area when they are readily available. Because, you know, carry-out isn’t quite the same as spending an hour at your favorite restaurant, talking about the menu with friends, experiencing the anticipation leading to the moment your well-plated meal is placed before you.

And within walking distance of my house I have Silver Dollar, North End Cafe, Hilltop Tavern, Mellwood Tavern, Hearth on Mellwood, Irish Rover, Con Huevos and plenty, plenty more. Sitting on my couch for hours on end with those establishments so near feels like some sort of cruel punishment from the gods. Perhaps it is.

But times like these force us indoors, away from our dining comfort zones, for the betterment of the greater good. And with incomes hurting for many, we find ourselves passing up carry-out from our favorites to eat food at home that we would never crave in happier times.

One friend of mine the other day lamented that she didn’t have any canned ravioli in her house. That’s how desperate times are getting. And it’s an example that eating what’s in the back of the freezer or cupboard is not necessarily about finding nutrition or even enjoyment, just managing hunger aversion.

And that’s where frozen burritos come into my story. You see, I rarely buy frozen burritos. It’s been quite a while, in fact. But during a trip to Kroger a couple of weeks ago, before the Coronavirus Apocalypse brought the hammer down like Thor if he had irritable bowel syndrome, I came across an eight-pack of El Monterey (loose translation, “The frozen suicide”) ghost pepper burritos. I can’t resist anything that says “habanero” or “ghost pepper,” so I forked out the four bucks and got a pack.

Honestly, I never thought I would need them, that I would maybe eat one and the rest would languish in the back of the freezer for a time of desperation. I had no idea that time of desperation would come so quickly and with such vengeance. In my heart of hearts, I knew it was time to hunker down and eat the damn burritos.

This, of course, came after my last frozen lasagna was gone and I had finally grown weary after eating my 347th grilled cheese sandwich. I took the burritos out of the freezer and studied the packaging more closely. This is when I realized that the main description on the bag read, “Bean, Rice & Chicken Flavored Burritos.” Chicken flavored? Flavored? Uhhh.

But a small badge on the package confirmed they were “made with real chicken,” and that each one packs 6 whole grams of protein. And it’s all wrapped inside a “fresh baked tortilla.” The, er, tantalizing copy on the package challenged my senses with, “Are you afraid of ghosts? Maybe you should be! Dare to face the spooky spiciness of El Monterey Ghost Pepper, Chicken, Bean & Rice Chimichangas.” Notice that in the promo copy, chicken is listed before beans and rice? Hmmm.

So, I pulled one out of the bag and looked at it. It was absolutely what you’d expect for a 50-cent burrito, and I’ll leave it at that. This thing is a burrito in disguise, I thought. A fraud. It’s a Corona-rito. Or maybe a Quarantito. Maybe even a global pandemic-ito. Just not a true burrito.

(As in, if La Bamba sold these, they would be called, “Burritos as big as your thumb!” But I digress.)

I knew what I was getting into when I bought them, because I’ve had frozen burritos in the past. It’s also why I generally don’t buy them now. Well, in spite of my better judgment, I decided to put a couple into the oven for the recommended 23 minutes and call it lunch.

Let’s just say that El Mundo doesn’t have anything to worry about.

When I pulled them from the oven, they looked the same – just warmer. The tortilla does, when cooked in the oven, crisp up well enough, although I’d recommend leaving it in a tad longer than the prescribed 23 minutes so it could brown a bit. And the contents weren’t as hot as I had expected – I put the “burritos” into the microwave for about 15 seconds to finish the job.

I did my best to convince my eyes that this was real food by drizzling some hot sauce over the pair of puny burritos, then sprinkling some shredded cheese over the top. Then I took my first bite. The first thing I noticed was that the contents are actually more of a bean mush than a blend of three different food products.

And overall they were kind of tortilla-dominated without a lot of flavor – kind of like eating a refried bean sandwich on really stale bread. But what it lacks in discernible flavor it makes up for in the promised ghost pepper heat, which pleasantly surprised me. If you dare to eat one of these and decide to add sauce, keep it a bit milder than I did, because that only compounded the burn, which was taking hold by the time I finished the first little burrito thing. Ouch.

Needless to say, I’ve had better burritos, and knowing that El Mundo was literally steps away made me think I should have plunked down 10 bucks there, despite my pekid bank balance. Still, it’s a freaking pandemic, by gawd, and we all have to make sacrifices. But lord help me if I have to resort to drinking near beer. A man can only sacrifice so much, even in a global emergency.

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