The great burito disappearing act
Following our (accidental) tradition of only frequenting eating establishments with not-particularly Spanish sounding names, dinner yesterday was had at a Mexican restaurant by the name of Red Hot Chile Peppers.
Unfortunately we opted for a starter, a basket packed full of tortilla chips (real ones, obviously, none of your Friend-chips rubbish) and salsa, which I gorged on illadvisedly. This meant that when the main course came, I was generally unable to finish it. Yes. Vince unable to eat food shock. Stop the press.
What I did eat was fabulous. Fried tortillas (warning bells should have sounded there I know) stuffed with beef, cheese, beans, guacamole and salsa. Really tasty, incredibly, inedibly rich. I was served two of the sods, each the size of a thick paperback (Gary will no doubt correct that one...) and struggled to finish the first. After a pause - during which Gary sportingly attempted to ask directions for the bathroom in Spanish, just in case - the second seemed to swell before me and I made the generally fairly sensible decision not to eat it.
Then I made the generally rather silly decision that it would be a good idea to pretend that I had eaten it, and promptly spirited it off my plate, into a paper towel and under my jersey on the floor.
No one saw a thing. Paul Daniels would have been impressed. And while it certainly saved a glowering look or two from the waiting staff, I still felt like the typically spineless Brit that I am. Tsk.

Still, if anyone wants it, let me know asap, or I´ll stick it on ebay on Friday.
- posted by Vince @ 2:21 PM