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| - Gourmet Gringos is an unfortunate example of how even the best idea can be undermined by poor execution.
I first heard about GG through my foodie friends; one of the first waves of food trucks that took Toronto by storm a couple of years ago. Their fun and portable take on mexican food brought them legions of fans.
So imagine my delight when they opened a bricks and mortar location in my neighbourhood, just as my wife an I moved in.
It had to be fate.
Even better, they promised delivery, combining two great ideas: mexican food and sitting on our butts waiting for someone to feed us.
Excited, we placed an order for chicken tinga and carnitas burritos, with a side of guacamole and nachos.
We waited, and waited, and waited. Longer than expected, but we've waited longer.
The food came lukewarm, but we've had colder.
We were impressed that they threw in a couple of soups...less so when it became apparent that said soups were basically canned cream of mushroom. But we've had worse.
Around $35 for two, but we've had more expensive.
Overall, the portions were stingy...but we'be been hungrier.
But I'll tell you what was abundant: raw onion.
Like seriously, never in my life have I eaten food more beset by raw white onion. It's like they ran short of other ingredients...like avocado, or chicken, or pork, or water, and just decided "hey, let's just throw some more raw white onion in. They'll never notice, and who doesn't love raw onion?"
Let me be clear: i'm no onion bigot. Onions lie at the heart of most things I cook and enjoy eating. French onion soup for example, with it's deeply caramelized alium base, if one of my all time faves. Raw onion burrito, not so much.
So much onion. like finding ants in your picnic basket, or bedbugs in your hotel sheets.
My wife was reduced to picking tiny onion dice out of her tortilla, one at a time; then scanning the burrito's entrails before hazarding another bite.
Me, I grinned and bore it, then brushed my teeth for 45 minutes and rinsed with a gallon of Listerine until the insides of my cheeks squeaked.
So yeah; if we feel like mexican but don't want to go out, this gringo will stick to his own kitchen.
At least I cook my onions.
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