A Big Lack

Last night I possibly made the worst food mistake of my recent sorry life.

Uh, I don't pretend to be a food snob but I'm kind of proud that I've eaten at a McDonald's only about twice in the past twenty years . . . other fast food joints possibly less (except for hot dogs -- I'm a sucker for hot dogs).

But last night I got this irrational craving for a Big Mac. I'm usually always sorry to actually give in to my cravings. I always hate myself in the morning. But this time I hated myself LAST NIGHT.

The moment this awful caricature of food presented itself in that limp, steamed-out fast-food container, looking nothing like that Big Mac of my youth (or the ones on TV) my stomach shrank to nanological proportions.

It was just positively ATROCIOUS. Chewy, bland, tasteless, soggy, greasy (but not in a good way, like good diner food), processed, gristly and disgusting.

Even the fries were not what I remembered . . . maybe because they don't make 'em with beef fat any more, the miserable cretins? Fuck, if you're going to poison me with your fast food burger once every ten years, at least make it EDIBLE.

By contrast, this afternoon I spent an hour and a half this afternoon hand-chopping a salsa with carrots, red onions, cherry tomatoes, celery, garlic, serranos and orange peppers and made nachos with Greek olives, cheddar and Gouda and pickled jalapeños and marinated steak tacos to grill with onions and cumin and Ancho chiles on fresh lightly-toasted flour tortillas.

That's what I call a Big Nick.