Last Call: Let’s share our favorite food poems (and tortillas)

Illustration for article titled Last Call: Let’s share our favorite food poems (and tortillas)
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Last CallLast CallLast Call is The Takeout’s online watering hole where you can chat, share recipes, and use the comment section as an open thread. Here’s what we’ve been reading/watching/listening around the office today.

The Chicago writer José Olivarez published a poem in The Atlantic yesterday called “Ode To Tortillas.” It is lovely, an ode not just to tortillas, but also to being Mexican and Mexican-American, and how there’s no one way to be something. Take a few minutes to read it. I love it, especially this part:

there’s infinite ways to eat a tortilla:
made in the ancient ways by hand
& warmed on a comal. made with corn
or with Taco Bell plastic. (what about flour tortillas?)
flour tortillas count if you ask San Antonio.
my people i am poly with the tortillas.
you can eat tortillas with your hands or roll them up
& dip them in caldo like my mom does.
you can eat them with a fork and knife
like my bougie cousins do. (what bougie cousins?)
(i made them up for the purpose of this poem.)”


What do you think is the best way to eat a tortilla? Tell us in the comments, and then share more of your favorite food poems.

Associate editor of The Takeout. Chicagoan. Owned by dog.


I wrote a poem a few years back that had a little bit to do with tacos

that’s outside, with cars and fog and trees and powerlines and stuff, and probably little critters in the trees and grass and such, with little buglets crawling around in the grass, and animal poops, and people inhabiting the surrounding areas, and a little girl who had a taco, and it was her first taco cause she’s like 4, and she was so excited because she never sees her daddy, but he took her out, even though he and her mom don’t get along much these days. and it’ll be one of the best memories she has, and every time she eats a taco she’ll start crying because her daddy isn’t around, but it’s okay, she finds a girl to eat tacos with, and they fall in love, and her partner plants stargazer lilies, and they bloom every spring, and she comes home every day, greeted by a small field of pink and white