The paper bag is tantalizingly weighty as I scoot out the door and flicker in and out of the line of morning headlights.
In a puff of steam, I pull out the first tender biscuit, a study in delicious contrasts; light crisp of crust revealing soft flaky dough, a hint of sweetness meeting the salty bite of sausage—simplicity and decadence all in one.
I scoop some of the surprise side dish of cool, crunchy coleslaw onto my pupusa and add a splash of salsa.
It’s not salsa from a jar, the sort you dip Doritos into that always tastes a bit like vinegar; no, this is real salsa, made with sweet tomatoes and smoky chili.
With the idea of ordering some kind of safe sandwich and a black coffee, I approach the till and see a handwritten sign taped to the counter. “.85 (minimum order two).” Back at my table I listen to a nearby group of Chinese men argue happily over something and nothing, paper cups of milky coffee and sugar-dusted donuts covering their table.
I sit back, stuffed at a total cost of .70 (Canadian) and look out of the window again.
Taking a bite, I remember one of the men in the kitchen telling me that the same woman who created this recipe lived to be nearly 100.
I pray that the biscuits were her secret to longevity and I’m doing my best to get my daily dose.
Biscuits plain, or with jam, sausage, or fried chicken can fill you up for little more than pocket change.
Despite the efficient art of the biscuit-builders in the kitchen, the line still gets long, but those in the know, like Michael Jordan in his college days, get out, weave through the cars in the drive-thru, and slide in the door to the kitchen where there’s just enough room to place an order.