A Burrito with a Message

This summer I had a lot of time on my hands. I was RIF'd (pink-slipped or laid off for non-LAUSDers who are tuning in). I was at a crossroads in my life, and the only two living creatures who were happy about this were my gigantic cats, who loved that I was home all the time as I had no job and no desire to spend any money. With a ton of time on my hands, I began cooking. I went on a health food kick, did a ton of research, and decided to be as much of a "whole foods" kind of person as I could be. I made my own vegan bread and crackers. I scoured nutritional labels, and then generally put it all back on the shelf and opted for unpackaged foods. Did I mention how much time I spent cooking? It was really a lot of time. I wondered if I'd be able to keep it up during the school year.

I'd have had a better chance of flying.

So a few weeks into the school year, I slunk down to the cafeteria with my high and mighty tail between my legs, seeking a vegetarian lunch from the school district that I don't trust. I was hoping that whatever they had wouldn't be too far off my new food rules. After handing over $2.50, I was presented with a tray containing a bean and cheese burrito, grapes, spinach salad, and milk.



To be fair, the food in the cafeteria does not always suck. Sometimes they have jicama, sometimes they have edamame. Sometimes they have two vegetarian options. Unfortunately, there's a flipside. Sometimes they don't have a veggie option, and I have to speak in very firm tones to whoever is trying to sell me chicken. I have actually yelled out "This is Los Angeles for crying out loud!" in my quest for a salad. Sometimes they run out of beverages. Sometimes they mix up the hamburgers with the veggie burgers. Sometimes they can't even give you a fork, though your lunch definitely requires one. So on this day that my burrito came to me, I was relieved to find myself equipped with a vegetarian, fork-free lunch.

Now let's talk about the presentation, shall we?

The salad is in a little plastic thingie with a lid. By salad I mean it is a handful of spinach leaves. The grapes are in a bag. My burrito is in a bag. And the milk? Oh yes people, the milk is in fact also in a bag. Not a stand-up Capri Sun type bag. A plastic bag that wobbles around the tray with no hope of staying upright on its own. The cafeteria people offered me a cup for the milk, but with the amount of trash generated by this one lunch, I feel like enough of a jerk and refuse the cup. I set my tray down and begin to eat.

Verdict on the salad: Spinach is actually fresh.

Verdict on the grapes: They are almost expired, and quite mushy.

Verdict on the milk: I feel like an idiot drinking this thing. Many bad jokes come to mind.


My burrito is talking to me.

The burrito is boasting a label that it's a "Baja California Burrito". I certainly hope someone closer than Baja made this thing. Also on the label is a round orange dot, with the words "Say No To Drugs!" printed on it.

Why is my burrito telling me not to do drugs? Is my burrito a reformed junkie? Has my burrito done some hard time, and is now coming to do some preventive public speaking? And honestly, does anyone think that some kid is going to read the label on the burrito and have a crazy life-altering revelation? "Well, I was going to go home and do some ecstasy, but this little piece of plastic said not to. I think I'm going to listen and become a model citizen".

The burrito tasted passable. I already say no to drugs, so the message is lost on me. On the whole, the meal will keep me going until I get home for the evening.

Where I will promptly start cooking again.