The red beans and rice were more like Red Buttons and Condoleezza Rice having costume sex in the den and making me watch and like take notes, is how unsavory it was, is my awsum simile hitting home for you. I don’t see how you can put cayenne pepper and the worryingly vague “Cajun seasonings” in something and have it have zero flavor, esp. to someone like me who feels like medium cheddar packs too much punch and would just as soon go with the mild. But anyway I chalk it up to being forced to simmer it for 90 hours. Nothing can survive that much simmering. The flavor gets all simmered out. That’s just Science 101.

So I’m thinking that when I saw the rice ‘n’ beans recipe on that shitty internet recipe site, I was thinking of Mexican rice and beans, and that’s what triggered fond memories and pavlov excitement. So today I went to this Mexican place I’d never been to before — right across the street from the Deli Where I Still Owe Eighty-Eight Cents. Their logo is a jalapeno with a sombrero and a big black mustache so I knew I’d be getting the authentic flavor. While the guy was assembling my burrito I watched the Spanish channel on TV, nodding now and then as if I understood the language. I thought maybe it would trick him into thinking I was “down” and he might give my lunch a little extra “home team” pizzazz but unless that pizzazz was this hard bonelike shard included there with the chicken my ploy didn’t work.