Single entendre

The great Breakfast Burrito Tour of the Southwest has ended, and you can make of that what you will. This is what I make of it: eggs, meat, cheese, potatoes or beans, and perhaps chilis, wrapped in a flour tortilla and topped with (usually green) chili sauce. It is simplicity itself, and utter genius. Of course, we're all familiar with the BB, as one may find a facsimile of the BB in most major cities, but said facsimiles are neither as delicious nor as prevalent as in, say, Colorado. The reason must surely be one of the following: (a) pigheaded, irrational, violent stupidity; (b) desperate shortages of deliciousness across the country; (c) lack of entitlements leading to low effective demand, as articulated by Amartya Sen; (d) hoarding by America's enemies.

Choosing a favorite breakfast burrito is like choosing a favorite child: it's easy to do, but you feel guilty about it, and there's lots of whining. The winner goes to the El Grande Cafe in Cortez, CO; it's been there for about 100 years. Honorable mentions go to The Chuckhole (especially because it's named The Chuckhole) in Grand Lake and The Olive Branch in Colorado Springs. But god bless you, every one.