The avocado wasn't a sauce, it was a chunk

When I got the Mos Burger Avocado Shrimp Cutlet Burger for takeout
and opened the paper bag, what I found on top was different from what I had imagined.
The "avocado" in the Avocado Shrimp Cutlet Burger wasn't a sauce. A green chunk was on the verge of collapsing on top of the tomato. Even though it was mixed with mayonnaise, it hadn't become completely smooth, and each fiber of the avocado still felt alive. The scent of basil rose up from it.

I opened the wrapper completely to use it as a plate. A classic takeout move. On my dining table at home, the steam had already settled, and I could tell the breading of the shrimp cutlet was starting to get soft. This is a time when it transforms into something different from when it was freshly fried.

Before taking the first bite, I lifted the bun just a little. The slice of tomato was thicker than I had expected. When I pressed it with my finger, the juice seeped out, and the green of the basil began to soak it up. The colors were mixing on their own.

The first thing that hit me when I bit into it was the saltiness of the breading. The flavor of the shrimp came after, a little delayed. It says "cutlet" for the shrimp cutlet, but the inside is more of a paste, with bits of shrimp only occasionally hitting my teeth. So, it's not the texture, but the aroma that takes center stage.

With the second bite, the chunk of avocado was crushed by my molars.

The heaviness of the oil lowered the temperature in my mouth slightly. That was when the basil scent traveled up through my nose. The acidity of the tomato cut through that oil. The sequence was perfectly arranged, and I thought that the person who created this must have planned the story inside my mouth.

I remembered the Mos Chicken I had set aside and picked it up after eating about half of it. The meat near the bone came off along with the breading. The spice was heavy on the pepper, placing it in a completely different category from the sweeter profile of the burger. Even though they came out of the same bag, they are foods that look at different landscapes.

By the time I reached the last bite, the bun had absorbed the oil from the wrapper and was slightly damp. This is the perfected form of a takeout Mos Burger that isn't freshly fried. The time it took to bring it home has become part of the flavor.

My hand, as I folded the wrapper, was faintly green from the oil.