This is a love story. A true love story between me and my taco salad.
I believe that as long as El Faro is still around, nothing can be that bad. The eternal battle between good and evil will rage on, but as long as we have El Faro and its three locations throughout the City, evil will never truly win.
The battle of the bulge, however, is a different story. That's why my coworker, Jessica, and I have made a pact to visit El Faro only once a month. Any more than that, and things could get ugly. We visited our mistress early in the month of June, but half-way through the month, I felt a craving. I started day-dreaming of pork burritos, chips and salsa, and the delicious taco salad that comes in a flour tortilla bowl. How brilliant to make the bowl a part of the meal and also the container in which the meal is served!
Jessica was gone when noon rolled around. "She must have taken an early lunch," our boss, Lois offered. That's when I snapped. I rushed down Kearny Street, pushing my way through the lunch crowds, not even enjoying the rare sunshiny day in San Francisco. "Chicken taco salad, no cheese, no sour cream, mild salsa, guacamole, and refried beans!" The deed had been done. I took my taco salad to St. Mary's Park and savored every bite. It was truly an affair to remember.
I came back to work as full of Mexican goodness as can be. Until, like a wife who spots lipstick on her husband's collar, Jessica spotted the stain on my shirt. Yes - it was the stain of love and passion that had dripped from the chicken in my taco salad. Luckily, I had an extra top with me, as I have all my internet purchases shipped to my work address. But clean shirt or not, the damage was done. That is, until I SPOTTED A BURRITO ON HER DESK!
