this post highlights how the tortilla and the baked potato are similar in that they’re just empty vessels waiting to be filled by fixins; in less ideal restaurants this expression of culinary freedom is known as a ‘a bar,’ but this is based on hearsay since i’d never set foot in a place like that.

i think this is a profound statement on culture and class that will, no doubt, go over the heads of many reading this.

we all love sour cream no matter what race we are, what culture we belong to, and i think that’s absolutely insane if you think about it, that we are capable of liking the same things despite differences that seem important if you think beyond sour cream. how can such a simple food bind us together?

i never actually thought about why it’s called sour cream before it was dolloped on a traditional taco bought in a border town in mexico when i was visiting to purchase an inexpensive crown, that’s when the sour stood out against the savory blend of spices that almost broke my Ny palette, what an exciting blend of mysterious ethnic spices you’ll never find in a packet. but my smile is a little crooked and they fixed that up for a budget price. it always bothered me to work in a professional environment and not have a perfect smile. they made really good burritos in _____ and i’ll never forget that.