FOOD = HOME
Leaving Home, Starting Anew and “San Diego” Rolled Tacos
Can a transplanted Californian leave her California attitude behind?
Californians are assholes.
Especially those of us who hail from Southern California — the unending 200-mile snake of traffic and press of humanity from northern Los Angeles County to the Mexican border. We act as if we’re smarter, better looking, and are having more fun than everyone else. And of course, we need to tell everyone about it in the most condescending way possible.
“Oh, you live in South Dakota? That must be… uh… nice. Can you stream Netflix there? How many yards, or miles, or whatever of snow do you guys get per week?”
But under our frozen Botoxed foreheads, our Crest Whitestripped smiles are strained. Yes, there are dozens of beautiful beaches to spy wannabe starlets in the latest bikinis by Ozempic. The dazzling ocean is impossible to reach on most days due to traffic; there’s no parking on all days due to millions of people; and the best beaches are definitely closed due to sewage. There is perfect weather (if you don’t like winter, fall or spring) and unlimited world-class cuisine that you can’t afford because your two bedroom, 3/4 bath “cozy” bungalow in an “up and coming” neighborhood set you back $1 million.
