OH MY GOD!
Holy crap, I was so nonplussed by this AWESOME news that I totally forgot to tell people about it! So, I ate this gigantic burrito earlier this year and wrote a truly kickass column about it. So also, there’s this contest called the Hearst contest for college journalism, and, not even gonna lie, it’s kind of a huge deal. And the journalism school has people enter the school’s contest, and they pick two pieces in each of six categories to send to the national contest. And I entered my column in the opinion/editorial category, and they picked it! And they sent it to nationals! And I get $50!!!! Woo hoo! So, here in all its amazing glory, is a reprinting of the Little Column That Could. It kinda makes me sad, because it’s pretty much the best thing I’ve ever written, and I’m afraid that I won’t be able to write someone as face-meltingly awesome ever again. I guess I’ll just have to eat totally disgusting things and write about it forever. Ok,
I am 5 feet 4 inches tall and weigh in at a sprightly 125 pounds. Needless to say, I am a pretty small lady. So why the hell would I even think about trying to eat the 6-pound monster that is “El Gigante” at Bandido’s Mexican Cafe on East Franklin Street?
I had heard harrowing stories of others’ triumphs and failures (mostly failures) in eating this behemoth. It seemed to be the stuff of legends in Chapel Hill. I had to have a go at it.
“El Gigante” is a gargantuan burrito stuffed with rice, black beans, chicken and steak fajitas, and myriad other lovely Tex-Mex offerings. It’s made with two large tortillas and is so big that it hangs limply off of the edges of the oversize plate it’s served on.
Contrary to popular belief, you do not get the burrito for free if you finish it - just a T-shirt that says “I conquered El Gigante.”
The waiter, Paul, described it as “not a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
Oops.
Let me start off by saying that I had no delusions that I was even going to come close to finishing this thing. I would have lauded myself if I had even made it halfway.
But after I examined the wall of champions near the door, and talked to the waiter about the mythical burrito, my confidence got the best of me - I actually began to think I could finish it for a minute.
I would even eat the pieces of raw tomato in it. I could do it!
Then it came.
As my meal was being carried out, I could hear the waiter behind me remarking, “It feels like carrying an infant!,” just before he plopped it down unceremoniously in front of me.
I opened my eyes, and a wail of horror I recognized as my own voice escaped from my lips.
My eyes welled up uncontrollably with tears. Before me sat the single most horrifyingly large piece of food I’ve ever seen in person.
That was it. I had been beaten before I had even started.
The first few bites weren’t too bad, but once I hit the warm, steam-limp lettuce piled on top, I could barely stand to go further.
The taunts of my tablemates didn’t help. Their tiny cheese and mushroom quesadillas looked absolutely darling in comparison.
I longed for a tiny pile of unadulterated Mexican rice of my own. But alas, I had to press on.
I soon gave up on actually eating the whole thing and performed a swift autopsy-style Y-incision to expose the meat, rice and beans inside.
I shifted the food around on my plate in a vain attempt to find something edible, but my stomach had reached its capacity.
To give you an idea of just how much was left, the Styrofoam box containing the leftovers wouldn’t close, and I was left with a bag full of soggy tortilla and guacamole.
I felt disgusting. I felt violated. By a burrito.
I didn’t even care about the free T-shirt by the time I escaped.
They only come in XXL anyway.
