Midway through a cross-country trek to our new home, I awoke in the West Texas town of Odessa. The front desk clerk at the hotel had told me the night before that there would be a continental breakfast waiting in the lobby, but when I got there it turned out to consist of store-bought doughnuts and tepid orange juice. I prefer to have a good breakfast before I venture out in the morning, and wondered where I could find something more substantial to eat before I headed out across the desert.

I loaded my things in the truck and drove to a nearby gas station. After filling up on diesel, I went in to pay and noticed that they were selling hot chimichangas from a case by the counter. I was pretty hungry but wasn't sure if these could be trusted. I caught the attention of Lupé, the attendant, and nodded toward the case.

ME: Are the chimichangas good?

LUPÉ: They're shredded.

ME: Ah. Yes. But...um...are they good?

LUPÉ: They're shredded beef. With cheese and peppers.

ME: One chimichanga, please.

Yes, it was quite good.