I never really thought of my life as one big Oprah show, until I began to frequent two Mexican fast-food joints this past month: Nico's and Los Betos. It was at the drive-thru windows of these establishments that I came to grips with two issues I now wrestle with: emotional eating, and my love of carnitas.
Carnitas in the form of a burro is the food I loved best this past month when life threw me a fast one. Carnitas is meat, and the best kind of meat--PORK--cut in little bite size pieces cooked and seasoned in a way that could bring Dr. Atkins back from the grave (hold his tortilla).
I don't like drama. The result is that sometimes, I act like I come from the loins of Spock. But if I don't change soon, my ass will be too big to fly coach.
The other problem with emotional eating is that in my happy life, I love food. This doesn't bode well for a woman in need of a good diet. I also can't use the excuse anymore that the majority of my roundness comes from my years-ago habit of imbibing too many pints of dark dark stout. (I also tell myself often that stout pounds are permanent--something no diet can rid.)
The bright side of my recent Mexican meltdown? I discovered Nico's makes the best carnitas: Surely, its pork is marinated in Prozac. Reality? Fatty meat rules. Los Betos is still there for me, especially at 2 a.m. at Campbell and Broadway. Nico's, however, now holds my carnitas-loving heart.
I'm on the mend now. I haven't been there in a week. It's just nice to know Nico's is there when life is crap.