I actually made my first real excursion to the oft-maligned Purple Cactus just a few weeks ago. I’d been hearing all kinds of terrible things about it for years, but there I was, another victim of a neighborhood with a serious paucity of fast, cheap food.

It was edible, and I didn’t hate it, but I’d be hard-pressed to call it “good” or to ever eat there again unless completely necessary. This is probably the kind of mediocre burrito my west-coast friends are talking about when they wax nostalgic about the stuff back home.