Ode to the Pollo Asado Burritos from Alberto’s Tacos by Jose Hernandez Diaz

Ode to the Pollo Asado Burritos from Alberto’s Tacos

by Jose Hernandez Diaz

I am faithful to you. Faithful, like the sun and moon. I howl like a Mexican Ranchera singer when I’m hangry for you. Just enough guacamole, pico de gallo, pollo asado to satisfy my existential crisis about the Lakers, but never over-the-top spicy. Not trying to prove a point. Just right, like the weather in southern California. Just right, like the temperature of the ocean at dawn in the summertime, before a surf session. I used to prefer the Carne Asada or California Burrito, but I’m getting older now and must consider things like health, weight, and not dying of a heart attack. Mis saludos to the Mexican chef at Alberto’s who always balances the burrito with just the right amount of duende into the homemade tortillas de harina. Also, let me get a can of Coca-Cola with that, not diet, for once, regular. I’ll live a little, today, with a classic can of cola, reminiscent of childhood summertime visits to Mexico to see the familia. Only once per week, though, like attending to the rising pile of laundry, like Rams games, like going to the library on Sunday afternoon, in La Habra, to the only library that’s open, to read a cozy book or write a jazzy prose poem. Perhaps a prose poem about the Pollo Asado burritos from Alberto’s Tacos, where they never disappoint and never-ever close, not even holidays.

I love odes. I love food. I love food poems. I REALLY love odes to food (see previously posted Bless This Bagel by Shirley Geok-lin Lim). So, yes, that is what first drew me to this poem.

But I adore the fact that the poet is writing about a very specific burrito. Then, he describes it in such ways that when I read this poem, I want a burrito (I don't eat chicken, but I bet Alberto's Tacos has other choices). This description runs throughout this prose poem, mixed in with delightful metaphors and pop culture references. (Have you ever een the word "hangry" in a poem before? I haven't.)

Plus, we learn so much about the speaker, also mixed in (like a taco mixes food stuffs? hmmmm). He has complicated feelings about the Lakers. He loves the weather in Southern California. Getting older has him thinking more about his health--very relatable.

The can of regular Coke that he allows himself once a week reminds him of his childhood visits to Mexico. This once a week ritual of non-diet soda leads to other things he does once a week, and that leads to thinking about writing a poem. And THAT returns us to Pollo Asado burritos from Alberto’s Tacos, so we are back at the title in a never-ending poem, which is also very existential. (See also the Cyclic Universe Theory for more on things that have no beginning or end.)

Besides the overall poem, a few specific bits I love:

Faithful, like the sun and moon.

I howl like a Mexican Ranchera singer

Just right, like the temperature of the ocean at dawn in the summertime, before a surf session.

Mis saludos to the Mexican chef at Alberto’s who always balances the burrito with just the right amount of duende into the homemade tortillas de harina.

(In poetry, duende is a difficult-to-accurately-translate word. When speaking of any art, if something has duende, it has an authenticity that is connected to the passion of the artist.

The speaker's use of it here, in a poem, is his way of complimenting the chef by ackownledging that his food is art.)

This wonderful poem was first published in the Los Angeles Review in April, 2023, along with another poem by Jose Hernandez Diaz. Here is the link.