If I tried to explain this to you in person I might spit into your eyeball.
Not because I’d try to spit into your face, but all that drool that I was trying to obtain and rein in might get in the way.
Tostadas are SO, like totally, under-rated.
If I tried to explain this to you in person I might spit into your eyeball.
Not because I’d try to spit into your face, but all that drool that I was trying to obtain and rein in might get in the way.
Tostadas are SO, like totally, under-rated.
So this cannot really be classified as a recipe. Just something that happened on an unassuming Sunday evening. The Cowboy’s idea…not mine.
I felt the need to share this little revaluation with you. Sometimes it’s all about leaving things simple.
Burrito baby, baaabay, baaabay. This is love.
I’d try to put a ring on my face if I thought I could marry this burrito. Or run away with it to a deserted island somewhere warm and tropical where I could bury my feet in the sand and possibly get a tan on my albino skin.
After devouring these chops I’m pretty sure my husband wanted to leave me. He wanted to run away with this piece-o-pig and never look back. After dinner he sat on the couch, unconsciously gleaming to himself. He was happy, I mean really happy. He found what everyone searches for all their lives; true love. The pork chop gave him complete and utter satisfaction. He worked for it, that’s granted. But…how do I compete with this? I’m doomed.