We tried the 1kg Burrito Challenge
Doing it for the gals
We’ve all had those days watching back to back Man vs Food.
You watch Adam Richman engulf the world’s biggest burger at record breaking speed and think to yourself, this is the job that dreams are made of.
We wanted a taste of that.
Bar One announced their 1kg Burrito Challenge, and after seeing only a handful of girls attending on the event, we decided it was time to do it for the gals and show everyone what we were made of.
Stage 1: Prep
In the days preceding the challenge our group message didn’t stop. We formed a carefully composed blue print of tactics: eating speed, accompanying drinks and suitable clothing. Everything was covered, and we felt ready.
Stage 2: Fighting Talk
We strutted in with all the confidence of Adam Richman himself. Like hungry meerkats we peered over at the burrito on nearby tables, assuring ourselves we’d eaten more than that for breakfast on some occasions.
We laughed in the sweaty faces of rugby players struggling through their nachos, and were already considering dessert options.
Stage 3: Fear
The tension was palpable as we sat in a dimly lit corner of Bar One waiting to be presented with our challenge. When it finally arrived, the sheer reality of what we were about to attempt hit in.
The burrito we were presented with was the size of a newly birthed child, and picking it up to our mouths was a physical struggle. There was no going back now.
Stage 4: Stamina
The initial plan was to “eat so quickly our bodies wouldn’t realise we were full”, and it was going swimmingly. Monumentally big mouthfuls were devoured, and the mission was two thirds of the way complete within about 15 minutes.
We even stopped to remark on taste, composition, and how great guac was. It was civilised if anything.
Stage 5: The Wall
Out of nowhere, the colossal kilo became painfully overwhelming. The sheer stodginess of the rice and dough was unprecedented, taking over 20 chews per mouthful. It was dry, and there was no sour cream to be seen.
Not to mention the heat of the burrito – in both senses of the word. Molten cheese poured from the center, single handedly destroying the roofs of our mouths, while spice killed off our taste buds one by one.
We were clammy to the touch and the prospect of the last quarter, plus a plate of cheesy nachos, seemed like a physical impossibility.
Stage 6: Misery
It seemed this monstrosity was never going to surrender, and it became apparent we were fighting a heinous, losing battle. The sad reality that we may not defeat it was sinking in.
We had quite literally bitten off more than we could chew. We gave each other pep talks before each mouthful, prayed, held hands, and cried together. Were we ever going to be okay again?
Stage 7: The Last Hurdle
The slab of thick, dry dough at the end took a good twenty minutes to plough through. We were tired, we were drained, and our jaw’s had begun to lock.
The mere sight of the cheesy nachos alone was enough to bring fresh, crippling waves of nausea upon us. We began trade offs, five jalapeños for two cheese covered nachos. Unorthodox, but necessary.
Stage 8: Pride
Finally, the Burrito was no more: the nachos had been eaten and it was three clear plates all round. The pride was on par with, if not greater than getting into uni itself.
We had gone against all odds and came out victorious. We gathered our empty trays like soldiers returning from a battle, and triumphantly presented them in exchange for our certificates.
Yes those certificates should have been t-shirts, or trophies, or statues of ourselves on the concourse, but we were too full, and too smug to care anymore.
Stage 9: Vomit
Out of nowhere, our victorious vibes came crashing to a close. Only minutes after completion, two of us ended up on the toilet floor of Bar One, being sick.
Flashbacks of drunken Saturday nights in Pop Tarts came back to us as we lay there. Never did we think that a burrito would render us in the same state.
Stage 10: Drunk
We said our goodbye’s and went back home to our respective housemates, who all assumed we’d had a night on the sauce after we came in giddy and victorious.
It was a bizarre combination of liberation, hysteria, and carb loading. It was physically impossible to sit in a comfortable position so we ended up thrashing about in our living rooms as we retold our emotional journeys to our friends.
The next day followed suit, waking up felt almost like a hangover. Our bodies couldn’t take in anymore liquid the night before, and we’d dehydrated quicker than we could drink.
As unpleasant as it was in parts, the feeling of success was like no other, and we’re already looking into further challenges.