Painfully delicious....

One day at the supermarket, standing in the bakery line with several other people who had compiled trays of "pan dulce" (sweet bread), I noticed a massive, gooey sheet cake sitting uncovered in the counter, with a serving spatula in it. It was a self-serve Pastel de Tres Leches, a cake with 3 milks, and of course my sweet tooth over-rode my common sense about sanitation. Also, it was a very clever marketing scheme, placing such an enticing item right in front of where people have to wait to get their bread weighed.

So despite several days of intestinal pain and suffering, I returned two nights ago for piece #2. I don't know if piece #1 caused my illness, but I'm not willing to experiment with the cake's absence. I hear it's just a rite of passage, getting your system all fouled up so that it can tolerate a constant barrage of poor sanitation, hygiene, and over-spiced foods. I think I am over the worst of it, and am preparing to visit a street vendor who sets up his cart near my house, who I saw the other day stuffing cooked chicken into tacos with his bare hands. If I submit another post, then you'll know I survived the next level.