Brainslip paints a sobering alternate history of a Mission under the influence of LA foodstuffs. Carne asada fries are a slippery slope, my friends:
First it started with the dreaded droopy carne asada fry invasion.
Then they took pizza. How could we lose pizza? Well, we did, to a cardboard tasting menace called Dominos, which began to infiltrate the Mission block by block from 30th to Division, Guerrero to Potrero. Heroes fell one after the other – Papa Potrero, Serrano, Cybelle, and perhaps remembered most fondly- Zante.
You can take my Indian pizza from my cold, dead hand.
Next up: tacos – soon deep fried was all they tried – Baja style. No more boiled chicken, shredded pork, sauteed fish, etc.
Scared? You should be. It gets worse:
After a year of sensory dullification we lost the only thing that mattered: burgers. In-N-Out opened at 20th @ Valencia. A bikes only drive-thru , how could we resist? Free air, free water, valet bike parking: all so delightful.
First they came for the pizza. And I didn’t speak up because there was too much bufala.
Then they came for the taquerias. And I didn’t speak up because there was too much pollo asado.
Such SoCalized medicine flooded the streets. Everywhere were carts, huts, & shacks – all shaped in the like of their foodstuffs. A nonstop barrage of fried chicken, chili fries, and pastrami became too much for neighborhood morale. Defeated, they gave up what mattered most, and signed over the rights to their BART tube for conversion to a freeway tunnel.
Oh dear. Food has consequences. The Great War of the Californias indeed.
