The last issue of Esquire that I picked up did this thing called the “Endorsement Issue,” where they endorsed Barack Obama, a candidate in every Senate and House race, and various simple things that can be enjoyed by Esquire-reading douchebags like me at some higher intellectual level.  Random stuff like Clontarf Irish Whiskey, shoofly pie, and threesomes with Thai hookers.

So, in the spirit of completely random endorsements, I’d like to take a few moments to endorse the finest non-alcohoilc drink on the planet: Horchata.

The usual description of Horchata is “rice-cinnamon drink,” but that doesn’t begin to touch upon what it is to experience this heaven-sent elixir made in buckets by illegal aliens at Mexican taquerias.  What’s Horchata?  Take the flavor of a nice, soft churro, mix in the addictiveness of crack cocaine, and somehow turn it into an ice-cold drink.  It is the perfectly sweet companion (for your palate AND your digestive tract) to tostadas, gigantic burritos, authentic soft-shell tacos, or whatever else you’ve loaded with fiery tomatillo salsa.

Listen to me, people.  I’m a barely functioning alcoholic.  But when I get Mexican food, I skip the Dos Equis and Pacifico and order a Horchata (an Horchata? Damn Spanish).  GODDAMMIT IT’S SO DELICIOUS!  I need it RIGHT NOW!  AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

/runs six blocks to nearest taqueria

HORCHATA!  HORCHATA NOW!  GIVE IT TO ME!!!!!!!!!!  ÁNDALE MOTHERFUCKERS!

/sticks entire head in Horchata bucket

There.  Much better.  This week’s Meast is Justin Tuck.

Tuck notched 2.5 sacks and was penalized 15 yards for a completely legal hit that the referees deemed “too measty.” Well, it’s not too measty for KSK. We won’t be satisfied with hits on Brooks Bollinger until Bollinger craps his pants out of the league.