ye immortal gods and muses, brillat-savarin and all the mages of trascendental gastronomy - help me to formulate adequate words of praise! summer of 1982: i was a near homeless punk who seldom made rent and never knew where his next 12pack of of generic beer was going to come from (well, it usually would come from gelsons, which was, by-the bye, not an easy dive to loot) and whose smoking habit was sustained by street-refuse and a three fingered misogynistic vietnam vet bum - yet, lest i digress... i had little money to set aside for such dreary matters as nutrition. the guys at los burritos - god bless them thrice- would, on occasion, set me up with chile relleno breakfast burritos (i'd always pay THEM back), the flavor, the authenticity, the quality of which was pure poetry. next time i'm in that sanious, untidy arse-ugly rectal pore of a city, LA, I am going straight to Los Burritos (right after the liquor store) and eat a $100 worth of food (with better beer). anyway, this eulogy is for the shop that then was on the corner of riverside and whitset.
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