However, what it lacks in cheese and produce selection, it (usually) makes up for in ridiculousness. Such as chicken feet and beef tongue. And insane mariachi tunes that are cranked up so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Until today, when my beloved Mexican super store failed me in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible.
It didn’t have hamburger buns.
What the hell?! This is not possible. How can this damn store not have hamburger buns?
I began searching high and low. And, as if it could sense my desperation, the grocery store resorted to trickery.
It became blatantly obvious that whoever ordered the bread products for the supermarket was a deranged worshipper of hot dogs. There were hot dog buns everywhere. Shelves and shelves of them. And whenever I thought I had finally found hamburger buns – alas – they were really hot dog buns in different packaging than the previous hot dog buns.
Now, it’s true, I could have changed meal plans. But I had come too far. My shopping cart was already filled to the hilt with hamburger ingredients. I couldn’t give up now! Blonde Beyonce and I appealed to an employee, hoping he could help us track down the secret location of the hamburger buns.
The conversation went as follows:
Blonde Beyonce: Excuse me, where are the hamburger buns?
Employee: Ay, senorita! Esta en aisle tres! (or something like that. With much more English)
How had we not seen them? How silly of us! We rushed over to aisle three.
There were no fucking buns or bread of any kind in aisle three. But there was flour…
Blonde Beyonce figured out the puzzle quicker than I did. Duh, our Hispanic homeboy thought we wanted to bake our own buns! Of course!
Well, I am not that awesome. Or that committed to my hamburger making. I was about to give up entirely when I spotted some pan de leche. OH HELL YEAH. I’m making fucking mini burgers! And sticking them on some tiny sweet rolls! Problem solved.
Oh, sweet victory.
[That's a mighty tiny burger. But it's filled with awesome!]
Take that, Mexican supermarket bitches!