Earlier this year I helped my brother move across the country, from middle of nowhere Cali to generic New Jersey. We did a whole hell of a lot of work on his property cleaning up and selling/trading a cornucopia of flea market and pawn shop items to fund the move. We even fit a 1k gallon water tank in a 30 foot moving truck that fit like OJ's glove. Did I mention we accomplished that feat in the dark and on a hill? After a few days of craze, we made the money and got the van to make the trip. Did I also forget to mention we had 4 days to make it back? Oh yeah. After three days of trudging, drudging, power and water outages, we were ready to make our way on the road.
Breakfast complements to my bros' close friend, was at Cafe 247, the town diner if you will. The interior was awesome, reflecting the local tradition of off roading, with license plates covering the walls, hailing from all different states, people who have traveled to this area for the yearly competitions.
I had an awesome breakfast Burrito, everything perfectly seasoned with as you can see a myriad of hot sauces to try and kick up my stuffed tortilla. There was anything fancy about it visually so you can see i don't have a picture of it, plus I was famished and didn't even think of a photo op until after I devoured the unsuspecting burrito. Regardless that Hunger is the best sauce, it truly was a well balanced and flavored breakfast classic. I don't normally get breakfast burritos for the same reasons, bland eggs, cold cheese, and an emptiness that leaves one unsatisfied. This beaut delivered and left me feeling good for our trip.
I will forever regret not adding this scrumptious bit of cloth to my t-shirt collection, but at least I nabbed a picture to share my laughter and enthusiasm for all things food and perverse.
For those who do not work in a restaurant, or perhaps work in snooty uptight kitchen, one has to realize the caliber of person working with food, and the enjoyment we get out of the underlying and gratifying morbidity of the profession. Raw protein is basically a carcass or part of, carefully preserved so it will be edible once cooked. You bet your bottom dollar that piece of meat at some point danced, sang, was whispered sweet nothings to, spoke to a chef, fought a cook all, honoring their dead medium for creation, as those still alive. I like to say don't let them die in vain, so a little bit of fun tends to lighten up the darkness that is the commercial meat industry.
All fun aside, food should be handled with a certain amount of respect, never damaged, bruised, or wasted for a frivolous reason. A lot of work goes into any food, from the miracle of creation whether it be seed or egg, to the driver that prevents cross contamination on your $20k order. The prep cook that struggled to get to this country and can barely read but has to support her family by portioning calamari each 4 oz of rings and 2 oz of tenticles, the fry cook who's acne won't go away from working over 350 degree grease all night and never wants to see another calamari in his life after Friday night happy hour, but cooks the next one as good as the rest because its the right thing to do. We're only as good as our last plate, but in this case, Cafe 247, you're as great as my first.
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