You know how on Idol the judges are always urging contestants to step outside their comfort zone and sing something unexpected? And then the next week the contestant takes them too literally and shows up in a tutu to sing a show tunes medley in the style of Poison? Of course, it sounds like murder and across America, people stare at the TV in horror, then stuff their fingers in their ears, praying for deliverance. Then the judges are like: “Dawg, I love you, I’m lovin’ this new look, and you got pipes, you can really blow, dawg, but that blew.”

This could not be more unlike my recent trip to Casa de Reyes Mexican restaurant, but for the purposes of this blog post, I am going to stretch the hell out of the metaphor. Picture it: Friday night, San Diego. Like an Idol contestant, I was pleased as punch to be sitting pretty on the Spanish colonial style patio under the palm fronds, sparkling night sky, and blessed California outside heaters. I sipped my Sidecar, which I always order in homage to Princess Clarisse of Genovia, and perused the menu. I normally use my Sidecar to wash down a delicious Tampiqueña, which is a kind of steak entree accompanied with a delightful serving of guacamole in a red tortilla sculpted into a flower. But, like the French Revolution at a rococo garden gate, into this idyllic scene entered a stray, crazy thought. Maybe the aristocracy is all wrong, the middle class is where it’s at, and I should try a different entree. No. I love the Tampiqueña. Yes. I should try something new. I should step outside my comfort zone. That is what Simon Cowell would want.

Well, I did. I stepped right outside my comfort zone by ordering the Todos Los Fuegos El Fuego burrito (“Careful!” warned the waiter. “It’s spicy!”). My thoughts were awhirl. How spicy could it possibly be? What is the waiter’s frame of reference- does he sit at home eating hot sauce with a spoon? Does he think porridge is too flavorful? Before I could react, he had gone off to the Fires of Hell to retrieve my meal.

This burrito was the hottest thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. I don’t adore spicy foods- after a certain point, all I can taste in that Korean or Thai or Indian entree is the heat- but this was crazy. My lips burst immediately into blisters. Tears mingled with the sweat pouring down my noble brow. My tongue lashed around my mouth like a small furry animal, unable to hide from the onslaught, but too stubborn to die.

So I pushed the burrito around my plate, taking the occasional fiery bite, and ate the mercifully mild rice and beans. It was horrible, but provided me with a valuable moral lesson: The Idol judges never notice if you butcher Country, but they know every note of Alicia Keys.

Eventually I had to vote the burrito off the show.