El Sarape is a place you don’t want to find yourself, but you repeatedly will. That’s life, what with the number of its ilk around the world. You know the type, where the menu is the size of a book, proudly proclaiming suspect dishes like the Mexican pizza. I’m not saying there is no such a thing as a good Mexican pizza; I just have never had it, and I’m fairly certain I never will.
It’s not a book to inspire much excitement either, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up at the ever prevalent burrito section, where maybe, just maybe, you‘ll find something to at least soothe the most basic of your cravings.
And the carne asada burrito might not have been wholeheartedly horrible, as much as it was offensively average. The same type you get at any of these generic Mexican restaurants.1 I’m not expecting every burrito to jump up and dance the foxtrot in my mouth or anything, but come on… A bland tortilla wrapped around flavorless carne asada… Would it take that much to do something a little biy different? Kick up the guacamole a notch? Add something, remove something? Something, anything to differentiate yourself?
The problem isn’t you, of course. Or maybe it is. Maybe tortillaphiles have ourselves to blame, with our impossibly high tortilla standards? There aren’t enough of us out there, and thus the purveyors of Mexican food cater only to the proletariat.
El Sarape is another dull face in the crowd, a concept our friends at Arrested Development many times have touched on.
1 And there are many of them.
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