 El Chile Toreado
Continuing the apparent theme of "everything's better in Santa Fe," we now roll up to El Chile Toreado, which bests your favorite hometown food shack by at least several notches, I'm sure. How am I sure? Well, for one, just look at you. You wouldn't know jack shit from pepperjack shit. But more importantly: I am simply talking out of my ass, because I paid good money for that diploma from The University of Ass Talkin'. ("Go Speechifyin' Rectums!")
Yeah, my college didn't have the best team name. Anyway, I wasn't in Santa Fe all that long, but every time I happened to pass by El Chile Toreado, there was a line. And unlike the lines you see at "hotspot" restaurants in major cities, there was nothing Instagram-driven about this one. This was just good, honest working people who know what's fuckin' good, waiting their patient turn for something fuckin' good.
When my turn came, I went with a veggie breakfast burrito with bacon, and a straight-up cheese quesadilla.
The burrito … think of the best breakfast burrito you've ever had, then go back and throw it in the guy's face who sold it to you for being "SUB-FUCKIN'-TOREADO, MOTHERFUCKER!" My, my, my, but this was gooood. The quesadilla, though … hooooollly shit, was this on a whole 'nother level. Carmelized to within an inch of its life, this may as well have been 100% pure crack cocaine, just sitting there on a sheet of foil waiting to be set alight. I'll defer to Whitney on that, of course. It's hard to even think how something as fundamentally simple as a quesadilla could be so much better here than anywhere else I've ever had one … but all's I know is, I blacked out while eating it, only waking up days later, my tongue affixed to the inside of a dirty runoff pipe behind El Chile Toreado.
Review by TingTing Sossi, March 2017 |
