Sunday, November 11, 2012

Drunk Review: 7-Eleven Taquitos

This is the first time I am doing a drunk review while sober. I did try the food while being slightly happy and made some notes. Reading those notes has been fun and I vow only to do drunk reviews while drunk. Who knew your handwriting could get so bad and still legible in one state? I guess I could always drink a bit and see if it begins to make sense again...

I am not unfamiliar with the meals provided at 7-Eleven. We have a history. I lived in Ottawa for many years and survived and thrived in the winters provided. Working late shifts, I often found myself walking through the Experimental Farm paths at two or three am, tired, slightly chilled and a bit hungry. The funny thing about walking across a field with no protection that late (or early if you are a farmer) is that the wind has died down and temperature has dropped sub minus fifteen. Exposed flesh is a problem but as long as everything is covered and kept under wraps, you can take your overstuffed body across the crunchy ground. The noise of the snow is the only thing you hear but it is so loud.

Anyways, at the edge of that large field there was, and probably still is, a 7-Eleven. I would stop for one of those hot sugary milk based drinks disguised as coffee and something microwaveable in plastic wrap. The coffee would take the edge of my tiredness so that I could get to sleep when I finished the twenty minute walk from the store to my house. The meal would warm the exterior of my gloves and eventually seep to my fingers that had a touch of cold. It would also save me the time of rooting for leftovers in the fridge and waking my housemates when I got home. Those are kind of fond memories.

So, now, how does that compare to my experience on Friday night after an outdoor beer event at The Only? We drank a few beers and had a slight mellow buzz going on. This was probably not the necessary level of inebriation for enjoying those vast, fast food cravings that strike people of a certain level of intoxication but it was close enough. The night was cool but not cold. The sign on the convenience store provided more than enough warmth to chase the chill away but still I had committed to trying the taquitos.

I must of been drunk enough because it took me three sweeps of the store to find them. They were right beside the cash where they kept the rotating wieners. The taquitos were rotating with the wieners. I have never liked those wieners, that should have been a warning sign. The value for the puchased goods was good. Three of those cigar sized deep fried taco things for five dollars. I began to wonder why I didn't come here more often. Remember I was on the edge of drunk. Don't judge.

The taste test comprised of the spicy beef taco one, the buffalo chicken one and Monterey Jack and chicken. They were all a little salty but after the hoppy beers, it was one of the flavours that came through. All three had this shell that vaguely reminded me of cannoli or those chocolate rolled cookies that everyone eats at Christmas. I wouldn't have recognized the hermetically sealed container (the wrap) as being a taco. The temperature was quite hot. Hot enough that I was glad for the paper bag that separated me from them.

The taco one was spicy but it was hard to figure out the flavour. Cumin was high and the crumbly beef gave me enough information to determine that this was indeed the taco one. The second one was misinterpreted by my colleague of tasting like Campbell's chicken soup. I am not sure which variety he was speaking about but I can see how the buffalo chicken could be mistaken for cream of chicken with a touch of vinegar. The third was a flavour that tasted like processed cheese and chicken because that is what it was. I would not eat these drunk again. However, if I find myself in the middle of field late at night in the winter in a northern city anywhere in the world and the last of the tortilla wraps had gone, I would cast my wary eye to these heated poles. They serve a purpose.

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