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Tuesday, February 28, 2006
It all started on Saturday night when I finished off my El Fenix hot sauce prize, that 454 gram jar of Texas charm. I immediately cracked open a 430 mL jar of Tostitos Medium Salsa.
We were talking tomato soup with the broth squeezed out. Bland. Unrefined. Barbaric.
Days later I give the Tostitos another try. Perhaps, unhindered by the memory of the great-tasting El Fenix, the Tostitos will once again shine.
With each nibble, gingerly taken, the truth about Canadian Mexican cuisine slams against my brains like a wildebeest stampeding whilst blinded by a cauldron affixed over its head.
There is a game about bad Canadian Mexican food. The Nacho Incident is based on the premise that the Mounties confiscate quality Mexican food at the border. Mexican smugglers defy the palate police, at whatever cost, be it braving alien enemas and carjacking UFOs or struggling on canoes down Canada's frothing waterways, to relieve the hungry masses.
People of Mexico, if you read this, send help!
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