Let me get this out in the open before we begin: I loves me some Cafe Rio. Let's be honest here, everyone loves Cafe Rio, and if you try to convince me otherwise, I'll assume you're either a) lying, or b) have neglected to try the pork.
(One of the reasons I love Melinda so much is that on her holiday Cafe Rio eating poll there was not even an option for 'zero times'.)
So anyway, the other day I rode Trax downtown to meet up with el Hub-ster. After spending most of the ride chuckling quietly to myself at the high school-aged gang members* talking about how freakin' awesome it would be to go to Area 51 that night, (I'm guessing the club rather than the governmental off-limits zone, but maybe I'm just judging there) I hopped off the train near the downtown Cafe Rio.
That's when I overheard a rather animated discussion taking place behind me weighing the various merits of the Rio. One of the females was quite obviously a fan (and therefore presumably not a liar.) The other, after exuding a heavy sigh, began to patiently explain to Girl #1 that she "hadn't eaten real Mexican food until you've lived in Texas."
Errors in this argument:
#1- Who said anything about real Mexican food? I thought we were discussing Cafe Rio.
#2- Texas? Bummer.
As a side note, I could mention that at most of the Cafe Rio locations where I have stuffed my face many of the food preparers appear to have been of Latin descent. I assume they actually prepared my food (because I watched them actually prepare my food) and therefore could make the argument that the food was, in fact, "authentically Mexican". For the purposes of our discussion, however, we'll ignore that.
We can also ignore the fact that Paddy assures me that I would not actually want to eat much "authentic" Mexican food what with the cow stomach and the parasites and the like.
And now I'm just rambling.
The point: You don't eat at Cafe Rio in order to partake of deliciously authentic Mexican cuisine. You eat at Cafe Rio when you to belly up to the table with a burrito so huge they'll have to roll you out the front door when you're done. I thought that was understood and well-documented.
In closing, I present the following piece of evidence for ex-Texan Girl #2:
Pork Burrito, black beans, enchilda style, medium sauce. Side of limes, please.
*Later, these upstanding members of society were forced to make a panicky and hasty exit from the train when bandana-wearers of a different color were spotted waiting to board. Yes, even in Salt Lake City.