Doctor Strangebreakfast: or how I learned to stop worrying and love poverty (Part 2)

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"Write Now Wednesdays" is the day I take time to explain facets of Burrito Life or expand opinions touched upon in previous articles. This week we present the conclusion to last week's story by guest contributor, Devon Ashby.

These tortilla-wrapped masterpieces typically contained cheese – Havarti was a favorite when affordable, but shredded cheddar was my fallback. If it was really a hard-up week, different wet ingredients were substituted for the cheese (or added, just for the hell of it). Chorizo was my standby meat ingredient — beef, pork, cured and uncured – but bacon, diced ham, sausage in its many glorious forms, and even soyrizo all made appearances. The Beverly Discount Market at the end of our block routinely stocked 6-count bags of fresh tortillas, delivered from a bakery just a few streets up, so all I had to do when I ran out of wrappers was put on my shoes and walk to the corner. Other rotating guest stars included black beans, red beans, garlic cloves, fresh cilantro, avocado, rice of many colors and textures, grilled peppers, fresh and stewed tomatoes, and an impressive array of hot sauces and salsas.
 
To this day, breakfast burritos are an important signifier for me, and they’re special for a couple different reasons. I didn’t have a car and there was never enough money for gas anyway, so the frequent need to replenish my stash of ingredients forced me to actually leave my house and explore my own neighborhood. I was living right outside Koreatown in Los Angeles, an area dominated by Guatemalan and Salvadorean small businesses. By going out on foot so many times looking for shredded cheddar or chorizo, I realized that my neighborhood was a fucking goldmine – not just of fresh tortillas, chicharonnes and Guatemalan pastries, but of huge, gorgeous painted mural art. I spent whole afternoons just hoofing up and down the street, gawking at DIY signage for various toy stores, religious icon emporiums, electronic repair shops, and carnicerias, and occasionally wandering inside to examine stacks of 30 year old video game cartridges or mirrored, glass-protected displays of false teeth.

A tortilla stuffed with cheese, meat, and vegetables isn’t the healthiest food on the planet, or the most technically sophisticated. But the cheapness, availability, and raw creative potential of my ingredients usually added up to a pretty happy medium between flavor, nutrition, and affordability. This was the first time in my life I had to make choices about how to manage my resources and take care of myself, and coming home to a meal cooked in 10 minutes that flooded my tastebuds with ecstasy, contained fresh vegetables, and could be held with one hand while watching Jeopardy was one of the few recurring experiences in my life that made me feel I might actually be capable of someday getting my shit together.
 
Most importantly, without fully realizing what was happening, I had the chance to get really good at something, just by doing it over and over again, while still leaving myself some room to play around and experiment. This is probably the most important skill set I’ve ever learned, and the rest of my life’s formative experiences have pretty much just been variations on that same theme over and over again. Breakfast burritos taught me how to be an artist, and how to be an adult. I salute them.

Doctor Strangebreakfast: or how I learned to stop worrying and love poverty

¡Escribe Ahora!

"Write Now Wednesdays" is the day I take time to explain facets of Burrito Life or expand opinions touched upon in previous articles. This week we begin a series by guest writer Devon Ashby.

So in my early twenties, like most people, I went through a financial trial-by-fire period of not really being able to feed myself properly.

In my particular case, this was due to the trifecta of being unemployed, not wanting to live at home anymore, and not having very good sense about how to manage my money. My roommate and I were mentally and financially coordinated enough never to lack for toilet paper, Diet Coke, cigarettes, or cheap, gut-poisoning liquor products, but a majority of the hot meals we consumed came from the $5 pizza restaurant next to our Laundromat, or out of a box with a big orange 99 cent sticker on it.

Aside from the perennial stand-bys of ramen noodles and pasta, three ingredients were always present in our otherwise threadbare kitchen, and those three staples transformed what could have been a purgatory of darkness, self-doubt, and chronic stomachaches into a magical period of gustatory self-discovery. Those three ingredients were: fresh tortillas, chorizo, and eggs.

Prior to moving out of my parents’ house, I’m pretty sure I was at least introduced to the concept of breakfast burritos. Tragically, however, I have no specific early memories of my experiences with this fateful staple of my transitional adulthood. With aforementioned budgetary constraints mapping out an entirely new grocery template, though, I knew I would have to start getting creative, or resign myself indefinitely to a menu of empty carbohydrates, tinfoil seasoning packets, and processed cheeses. Tortillas and eggs seemed like a no-brainer since they’re two of the cheapest foods you can buy, and with the bulk of the work established, the rest of my grocery list fell rapidly into step. Breakfast burritos became a three-or-four-nights-a-week tradition.

To be continued...

Los Altos

Finding a good burrito within walking distance of the house is like finding a twenty on the ground, so when I found Los Altos on Chester and 2nd I didn't expect them to deliver like they did.

I began with their chorizo breakfast burrito which is a little odd for me because I tend to go with plain breakfast sausage for my first go around, but ham, bacon, and chorizo were the only options.

I tend to shy away from chorizo due to many experiences with burnt brown chorizo bits sopped in bright red grease. Chorizo doesn't change colors like most meats when cooked through, but will change colors when burned. The amount of cooks who either don't know this or choose not to care is baffling.

With this knowledge I interrogated the lady a bit on the quality of their chorizo, and she said confidently it was good but the cook chimed in "it's great" with a tone in his voice like I challenged him to a duel.

It was on. He took his time cooking every ingredient fresh, and the smells coming form the open kitchen were promising, if not intoxicating.

My eyes widened with the first chomp. Everything is in its place. The eggs are cooked down to the little eggy crumbles, but the huge kicker is the chorizo. No grease. No wet tortilla. No shiny hands. Perfect bright red bits mixed into the burrito without being burnt and carrying flavors rare to the world of chorizo BBs.

Around $5 and just as many blocks from my place I found something special. Thank you, Los Altos, for teaching the world the beauty of well-prepared chorizo so close to my house, and now close to my heart.