Number 86: Enchiladas from Taco House
If you need proof that I'm not a food snob, that I don't spend all my evenings hunched over bone marrow, pigs' trotters and headcheese, all you need to do is cast your eyes over the above pic.
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Look, it's nostalgia. When I was in high school, my girlfriends and I would hit up our neighborhood Taco House (which, incidentally, is celebrating 51 years slinging those enchiladas) after a night of debauchery, chasing boys and drinking Coors Light and Malt Duck, sometimes together. True, my friend Susanna would always bring her own glass, because she wasn't about ready to drink from one of theirs. (For the record, her paranoia extended to just about every bar, nightclub and restaurant in Colorado.) But she, like me, loved the enchiladas. I still do. I get that they're rolled with yellow American cheese -- Velveeta, too, I suspect -- and that they're more white trash than eating roadkill possum, but like sex, I've got to have them on a regular basis. And that, people, is why they're on this list.