Or as we used to call ‘em, “an enchilada.”
So, I was driving the other day, when I saw this mysterious placard at the local Taco Bell.
A “Smothered Burrito,” you say? Disappointed to some degree by the Bell’s most recent assortment of specialty items, I was more than just a tad intrigued by this newfangled offering. I mean, “smothered” really isn’t the kind of fast food adjective you get to throw around too liberally, so I already had images of cheese and grease-drenched tortillas dancing in my head before I even saw what the actual items looked like.
As I neared the eatery, I saw two posters for the item. Well, they look “smothered,” indeed: a burrito, covered in bean sauce, a couple of different melted cheeses, and the tortilla itself comes stuffed with beans and wild rice. That’s an aesthetic that is mighty hard to turn down, no doubt.
Inside the restaurant, there was one of those cardboard placards on display, once again hailing the arrival of this newfangled “smothered burrito.” Apparently, whatever this dish is, it contains shredded chicken…not exactly the most desirable filler for an individual whose food sexuality can best be described as “pescatarian, but not really good at it.”
Upon closer inspection, however, I realized that I could also acquire one of these here “smothered burritos” with either beef or steak. Of course, those ingredients sound perhaps even less desirable than the afore-mentioned shredded poultry, so when it came time to place my order, I elected to have a “smothered burrito” -- henceforward, referred to as a “smoritto,” with just beans and rice.
Whereas a majority of Taco Bell items come wrapped in a fine paper protector, the “smoritto” came instead in a plastic container. As a result, the heat of the “smoritto” caused the plastic to fog up considerably. It’s rare that you can purchase a Taco Bell product with condensation on it, so I was extremely excited at this point.
The big reveal for the “smoritto” was impressive, to say the least. The product had a nice, savory aroma to it, and that first whiff of proprietary bean juice is certainly a delightful olfactory sensation.
Empirically, I suppose this item is really nothing more than glorified enchilada. I mean, it’s covered in cheese, and a nice smoky liquid substance, and it’s more chewy than crunchy. So, yeah, in other words, the “smoritto” is actually JUST an enchilada, only called something more sensationalistic. They could’ve have at least thrown in some Fritos’ chunks or something.
So, uh, my “smoritto” was a lot more bean-y than rice-y. I mean, yeah, it was there, and you could taste it, but the ratio of bean filling to not-bean filling had to have been at least 85-15.
Similarly, I’m the kind of lad that prefers his beans in actual bean form, as opposed to regurgitated paste. I really can’t complain about the mashed pintos here, but for future reference, it probably wouldn’t hurt you to include some unmolested black beans in upcoming offerings, ‘Bell.
As far as the taste of the offering, however, I really can’t complain. Despite being perhaps overly beanish in texture and flavor, the addendum of chipotle-like sauce, cheese and wild rice certainly was palpable. Really, you’re paying for the mysterious bean sauce here. I don’t know what’s in that unusual orange fluid that the “smoritto” comes swimming in, but whatever it is, it’s delicious. Which, of course, probably means its made out of people or something.
So, what more can I say about the new Taco Bell “smoritto?” Well, not much else, which is why I’m ending this article in like, two sentences. Do you like enchiladas, and do you like tortillas with a lot of beans that are marinated in a thick dousing of stuff that you don’t know what it is but is still tasty? Well, if you do, you’ll probably like the “Smothered Burrito.”
And if not? Well, uh, I guess you probably won’t like the “Smothered Burrito,” then.