Hey, the Jets won

Remember? Special thanks to Rex Grossman and whoever it was that decided the Redskins needed to throw the ball twice as often as they ran it.

More on Jose Reyes coming whenever it is I figure out if I have anything to say that hasn’t been said better by a million people already. And then probably something coming regardless, because the site’s called TedQuarters.

Pedro Martinez returns to the mango tree

Pedro Martinez will officially announce his retirement soon. Perhaps in the form of a party, because Pedro Martinez is a celebration.

I could rattle on for hundreds of words about Pedro’s hilarious and sometimes divisive persona, or remember his mostly underwhelming tenure with the Mets, or defend him for defending himself from a hard-charging Don Zimmer. Or I could write about the first time I talked to Pedro after a ceremony in 2007 celebrating his 3,000th strikeout, and how he told me it was his first time his mother had been on a Major League field, and how speaking to him — one of my favorite players of all time — made me so giddy I called my own mother afterward.

But while all that ancillary stuff about Pedro is undoubtedly awesome, what’s most important to remember now is the ridiculous run of dominance that marked the middle of his Major League career. I’m almost hesitant to try to describe it, knowing I could never do it justice: A slight little man joyfully toying with so many juiced-up mashers, bedazzling and baffling with a blazing fastball and biting curve and a changeup that seemed to defy physics. It sometimes looked like Pedro was playing a video game, only he was on the Rookie setting and everyone else was on All-Star.

Watch this and this and this and this, knowing it’s entirely likely we’ll never see anything like it again. Time-capsule stuff.

What a stud.

If anyone needs Pedro Martinez, he’ll be under the mango tree, being awesome.

Burrito semantics

As you’ve noted several times, Taco Bell, and Mexican food in general, is often just the same ingredients in different permutations. Why is it then, that you can throw a bunch of red sauce, cheese sauce, etc. on a burrito and it’s still called a burrito (though, to be fair, sometimes called a “wet” burrito)? Shouldn’t this merit an entirely new name? In my mind, much of the simple pleasure of a burrito is the portability and ease of consumption via my hands. When you add sauce, or whatever, that entire dynamic changes, which in my mind necessitates a new name.

Basically, what I’m saying is that I live in fear of eating at a new establishment and ordering a burrito, wondering whether it will show up “wet” or in its usual simple glory. What is your take on this issue, as well as your “wet/dry” preference? Why isn’t this a bigger deal?

MJ Scalese, via email.

This is a good and important question. In at least a couple of places, I’ve seen “wet” burritos billed as “smothered” or “enchilada-style.” But then isn’t that just an enchilada?

No, it turns out it isn’t. Enchiladas are made of corn tortillas, whereas burritos use  wheat. The Wikipedia tells me that to be an enchilada, the tortilla needs to be covered in a chili-pepper sauce, since “enchilada is the past participle of the Spanish verb enchilar, ‘to add chile pepper to.'”

It’s awesome that there’s a verb for that, but none of this helps solve the problem you identify. But you know who does?

That’s right, it’s Taco Bell.

Longtime Taco Bell enthusiasts may remember the Enchirito in its original incarnation, when it was made from a corn tortilla. But since the late 1990s, the Taco Bell Enchirito has been essentially a “wet” or “smothered” or “enchilada-style” burrito, only with a far less confusing and/or cumbersome name.

And since that name is a portmanteau of “enchilada” and “burrito,” it seems to perfectly describe the menu item currently being served as an enchilada-style burrito, no? So get on it, people who own Mexican restaurants that are not Taco Bells: Start naming your stuff after Taco Bell items. Also, start serving MexiMelts. They’re delicious.