Chipotle just started making queso. I love queso so I bought some yesterday, along with some tacos. I was disappointed at the size of the container. It was so small. When I got home, my family, not very saavy from a culinary perspective, eyed it suspiciously. I played it cool-no sudden moves. I busied myself getting plates out of the cupboard for the tacos.
littleb was the first to speak. “What is that” he asked, wagging his finger at the queso.
“Oh, that?”, I said, nonchalantly. “Nothing-just dip for the chips. Or sauce for the tacos.” I was careful to omit the word “Cheese” from my description. littleb loves cheese. I opened the queso and dipped a chip. I handed it to him. “Try it”. Nothing like a little reverse psychology to send the young ones running.
littleb took a step back. “What are those colored things in there?”
“Peppers”, I said. He doesn’t like peppers.
“Is it spicy?”
“Might be a little. Here. Just try a bite”, I held it out to him again.
“No thanks”
“Okay. Suit yourself.” I turned away to hide my pleasure. No one could say I didn’t try. I might be an evil genius.
BigB wandered out. “What did you say that was?” BigB is a facts guy. He doesn’t need flowery prose. I keep things simple for BigB.
“Queso” I said, holding my breath. Would he ask what ‘queso’ meant? He took 8 years of Spanish in school. Did he remember the word “queso” the same way he unfortunately remembered all the words to “Feliz Navidad”?
He stared at it. He had that expression in his eyes. The one that means wheels are turning. He was trying to remember. Any minute now, I knew, the file in his brain marked “Spanish, Grade 7, Lesson 24, October 17, 1972”, would download, and he’d be on to me. Oh no, do something . Distract! Distract!
I stepped between him and the queso, blocking his view. “Hey, BigB”, I said, slipping my arms around his waist. “We should go to Home Depot tomorrow to look at cordless drills.”
“You hate Home Depot”, he pointed out, eyes narrowed.
Oops. I’d overplayed my hand. “But I love you, BigB”, I said, flirtatiously. “Here. Have a taco”. He smiled. Food and romance all at the same time. It was too much, even for his gigantic brain. He’d forgotten all about Spanish, Grade 7, Lesson 24. Queso? What queso? Crisis averted.
I smiled back, relief flooding my body. I was close. So close. BigB walked towards his office. My hand reached for the queso. He turned back. I yanked my hand to my side.
“What time is good for you tomorrow? Maybe around 1?”
“Good for what?” I asked, puzzled. Hungry. Voracious.
“Home Depot, Silly”, he said, turning back towards his office.
“Enjoy your cheese sauce”
Well played, BigB. Well played.
liquid gold
Chicken's Consigliere 
Ahhhh, those sneaky men people!!! “Enjoy your cheese sauce” indeed 🙂 Well, at least you DID have it all to yourself. And you never know, you might get a blog post from the visit to Home Depot. The bright spot for every blogger 😀
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You always find the silver lining, Jenny. It’s a good quality in you:-)
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I’ve never been to Chipotle, but I do like a good burrito. No, that’s almost a lie, my affection for burritos is somewhere between “extreme” and “off of the charts” and I possess a good working knowledge of the taco truck ecosystem in most of the East Bay, along with some aging but probably still useful insights into taquerias found in the Mission District of San Francisco.
Should I try Chipotle?
The Google says there are three of them fairly close to here.
I doubt that I would have survived my stay in the old foundry building without the excellent burritos that can be had at Berkeley Bowl West, about five blocks from it.
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Doug, you most definitely should not need to go to Chipotle. I go to Chipotle because I live in an area where good Mexican is not easily available. There are some places, but not right outside my door. You going to Chipotle would be like me going to Olive Garden…where I live there is a large Italian-American population and we have incredible Italian restaurants all over. I’d never willingly go to Olive Garden, not because it’s awful-it’s not that at all-but because better more authentic Italian is readily available. You should start a blog about the Foundry. You could call it Foundry Tales or Tales from the Foundry or something better.
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My oldest grandson manages a Chipolte, in addition to going to college. He wants a new job, but doesn’t have time to look for one. I’ve never been a fan of Mexican food, and even have been sickened by one restaurant, and a granddaughter had an allergic reaction and her lips swelled to twice their size and she still marched in the band and pretended to play her flute. A flute ringer, so to speak, except it hurt to purse her oversize lips.
Anyway, I laughed out loud when you deceived BB, and out louder when he called you.
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Hi Joanne, is your grandson married? Asking for a friend. Wait, is this the one that rides the bike? I love Mexican but I’m pretty much alone in that passion in my house. Oh well. More queso for me! Flute ringer-haha. That should go on a T-shirt.
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Great post! 🙂
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Well, I hate to be the downer of the bunch, but…….no worries about e coli? And I again, hate to be the naysayer in the group, but Chipoltes as real Mexican food?? I like cheese as much as the next person, but…..
Anyway, I’ve overstayed my welcome, as is usual.
Take care, my friend.
Mike
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Hi Mike, I have no illusions but one takes ones queso and tacos where one can get them when one lives in an area where there are Hot dog joints on every corner and authentic Mexican is hard to come by. I should move. That’s what I should do. Unfortunately, the family is more fond of hot dogs. I doubt they’d follow me. Come to think of it….🤨
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Ha ha! You do what you have to to protect the treats!
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That’s right, SAW. You totally get me.
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Dear Chicken, No offense intended but my favorite Mexican Restaurant in California (since Luis’s closed) is El Pollo Loco –but I never order the chicken, crazy or not. I always order a hamburger. They serve a GREAT hamburger! Norma explores their more Hispanic menu, but I’m there for the burger and beer –Corona, one of the most cheerful beers in the whole world. Until the Spanish language addresses chickens –who are predominantly hens– with the feminine article “la”, I will go on ordering hamburgers.
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I appreciate your loyalty to my species, Geo. And who doesn’t love a good burger? Well, cows obviously.
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Excellent, flowing dialogue.
Loved this! ))) from Duluth.
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