{"id":539,"date":"2008-04-15T22:22:37","date_gmt":"2008-04-16T05:22:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/?p=539"},"modified":"2008-04-16T23:28:11","modified_gmt":"2008-04-17T06:28:11","slug":"a62-tortilla-chip","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/?p=539","title":{"rendered":"#a62 :: Tortilla chip"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"ENLARGE\"<\/a>When I was a kid, viagra<\/a> web<\/a> the only corn chip I ever knew existed was Fritos.<\/p>\n

They came in impregnable mustard-and-red plastic bags, visit web<\/a> were packed with salt and oil, and stuck in your teeth when you chewed them. They tasted fantastic washed down with Coke.<\/p>\n

A few years later, my first reporting job put me in Putnam, Connecticut. Late-night shifts would take me home past the Frito-Lay plant<\/a> in Killingly, which smelled amazing<\/i>.
\n
\nI remember the 4 a.m. aftermath of one particularly heavy night of journalistic cameraderie (all right, drinking until shitfaced) put me on the road in an completely unfit-to-drive stupor of the sort that made me fear and loathe heavy drinking ever since. It’s a wonder I made it home without getting killed, pulled over or worse.<\/p>\n

But the Frito-Lay plant was an olfactory beacon in the pine-scented dawn. Right, red, returning. Homeward bound. I knew I’d get home safely once I passed through the pungent cloud of aerosolized tallow and fried corn meal.<\/p>\n

When I moved to California in 1990, new cuisines waltzed before me, courting my palate with the sublime (Wolfgang Puck’s Granita<\/a>, chops and martinis at Musso and Frank<\/a>) and the obscene (the spicy Polish chili-cheese dog at Pink’s<\/a>).<\/p>\n

The tortilla chip became a new staple, and now it’s an old friend. Trader Joe’s makes the best store-bought salsa.<\/p>\n

And this chip is all that’s left of the not-too-shabby carnitas<\/i> burrito my wife picked up for me tonight from Baja Fresh<\/a>: Crisp, not too oily, uniformly shaped.<\/p>\n

A solid, humble snack.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I was a kid, viagra web the only corn chip I ever knew existed was Fritos. They came in impregnable mustard-and-red plastic bags, visit web were packed with salt and oil, and stuck in your teeth when you chewed them. They tasted fantastic washed down with Coke. A few years later, my first reporting […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-539","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-edible"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/539","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=539"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/539\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=539"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=539"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heavylittleobjects.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=539"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}