Something I’ve tried to communicate to my U.S. based friends in the horror and beauty of the Torta Cubana as sold in Mexico. First off, let me preface that one of the peculiarities of the torta cubana is that no two places prepare it in the same way, so should you go to Mexico and order one, you really are not assured that you’ll face the kind of struggle I did. Yesterday, as a surprise, my brother brought me home a torta cubana from his school cafeteria (which, is not really a cafeteria like americans understand it, but more like a short order cafe). When I opened the package it was sealed in for its journey, I knew I had to document this for the world, for science. Without further ado, observe this picture of its strata.
If this were sold in the states, it would cost thirty dollars, require a signed waiver to purchase, and its consumption would get your picture of the wall of the establishment. At my brother’s school, it cost 40 pesos (3.06 USD). I didn’t measure it, but as you can see from this picture, it is roughly the size of my misshapen head.
I ate the whole thing. I was going to be productive yesterday, but then this sandwich happened, and drained my body and will.
Do I regret it? Mildly.
Will I do it again, soon? God, no.
But if he brought me home another one, would I feel obliged to eat it?
Dream big, friends, for now is the time to push the boundaries of human potential.