On my first trip to Tucson, back in 1987, Simon introduced me to Mexican fast food. Specifically here at El Rapido. He pulled up in his car, instructed me to go inside this hole in the wall while he waited, and ask the counter person for a quesadilla. I didn’t ask questions, I just followed orders. And when the flour tortilla filled with queso and a stray jalapeño or two arrived, I was transported. I’d never had anything like that in New England or New Jersey. (Now, of course. But then, no.) Of course, how could I not love it when it contained one of my two favorite things in the world: melted cheese, in any form. (My other favorite at the time was getting paid to watch TV. Now, you couldn’t pay me to watch it. But melted cheese still reigns.)
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