McSweeney’s Rejections Presents — An Open Letter to Chipotle
This is the first entry (in what I can only assume will be a lengthy series) I’ve titled “McSweeney’s Rejections Presents.” The older I get, the more I’d like in […]
There isn’t a lot of food in this country you can’t go out and eat on a whim. Give me 15 minutes, I’ll give you a gyro stuffed inside a lobster served on a bed of basmati rice. So imagine the piquing my interest received when I learned of the “paw paw fruit,” a delicious treat that supposedly cannot be sold commercially because it spoils too quickly. There are apparently groves of this crap all over the country, including near me. The rub? That the locations of these groves are zealously guarded by fat f*cks that don’t want to share the goods. Join Papa on his quest for paw paw on the latest Papa’s Basement.
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