A civil war rages in your campus backyard.
Forget immigration. That lovely issue rests in the grave of political hotness that is Fred Thompson and Mitt Romney. (“DON’T FORGET RON PAUL!” says the guest columnist.)
No, please rest your minds on Big Things That Matter for a moment. After all, you’ve most likely decided between Change, Experience and McVietnam.
I say we focus on what’s really important in our crazy Johnson City lives – Mexican food.
There are two main players in the battle for burrito supremacy. (This conclusion was reached based on some all-too-intense research of remembering various conversations with friends. Pulitzer, please.)
At this point, you might be wondering, “what are the restaurants?” If that’s the case, I have to issue a cordial reply of “you need to eat more Mexican food in this area.”
Every college student who wastes their money on restaurant food should know that the only Mexican that matters is El Torrito.
Put Amigo’s in the same category as John Kerry and ETSU football. That crap is over.
I know. There’s like a 50-pound beer you can get at Amigo’s for far less than a Lincoln. And blah, blah, blah, you’re right, the rich salsa at Amigo’s destroys the liquid aerosol you get with your chips at Torrito.
But those are small points when you think about it. Led Zeppelin blaring at Amigo’s really doesn’t scream Cancun. The only thing authentically “Mexican” about the place is ESPN Deportes. You could order “beef and white cheese” and get the majority of menu items. Enough negative, though.
Excluding the subpar salsa, El Torrito takes the fried ice cream for Mexican cuisine in the greater ETSU area.
Perhaps you’ve been brainwashed by the Amigo’s lovers permeating the campus, so let me suggest the chicken chimichangas with rice for your first visit to El Torrito.
Topped by an always-fresh tomato slice, the chimichanga is a fried tortilla stuffed with chicken and surrounded by melted cheese, lettuce, sour cream and refried beans that will probably give you gas later. Good stuff.
Stained an orange just a shade lighter than the picking-up-trash-on-the-interstate color used by Tennessee’s “flagship university,” the Torrito-brand rice is just greasy enough to provide delight and not weigh you down later.
I encourage you and your friends to make the trek up Kroger Hill (let’s start calling it that) and try out El Torrito.

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