In downtown Yuma, Arizona, just a day’s drive from San Diego (and five days of slow-paced food-motivated driving from Columbus, Ohio) there is a Farmers’ Market. Although I’d done my food research for this cross-country trip, neither the Farmers’ Market in Yuma, nor the burritos I consumed there, had been on my radar. The Urban Spoon application on the iPhone, not surprisingly, showed only Subway and Taco Bell when my travel companion and I searched for lunch locations.
Kismet lead us to find the Tuesdays-only market in the tiny downtown area of Yuma. Kismet and Google Maps, that is. At the edge of this street fair-looking ordeal was a burrito stand that was no more than a grill, table and a hand-written poster board. Burritos: $2.
After several high-priced and mediocre California meals (including a $21 omelet), I was excited to see my first cheap food in this multi-state venture.
Three inches long, the burritos were filled with grilled beef, peppers and onions. Most of the ordering took place with eye contact and sophomoric Spanish skills.
“Dos,” I said shyly as I realized that in this town, my pasty whiteness made me a minority. And then, “Gracias.”
I’d finished one burrito before my friend met me with his order. And then, before I could take a photograph to capture the image of the best food I’d had in days, I finished the second.
“How did you like them?” I asked as he finished his in a more reasonable amount of time.
“It’s funny, but now I’m kind of more hungry.”
I knew the feeling. Tengo hambre, I thought to myself.
