Huckleberry - Santa Monica

Huckleberry is an upscale bakery and cafe located back in my old partying grounds of Santa Monica, but being the struggling musician with a taste for dangerous consumables that I was I would have never had the funds to finance such an excursion.

But here I am, a fairly-compensated member of the working class and the threat of a $13 breakfast burrito only pisses me off as I produce the twenty from my wallet. All told I spent $18 when I added the bottle of coke to the mix, and I can't imagine what a burrito would have to do for me to justify this expenditure on the regular.

A grill-pressed burrito, handful of freshly fried chips, cup of salsa, and a cup of sour cream (for dipping?) are arranged nicely for dramatic photo opportunities. Rich golden browns and vibrant greens are the first hints towards the caliber of burrito I am bearing witness to, but my first bite is betrayed by a lack of texture diversity.

The flavor is here. Fresh avocados with well-seasoned potatoes and fluffy organic omelette-style eggs contribute to terrific breakfast goodness, but the almost complete lack of Niman Ranch nitrate-free bacon, which I paid $1 extra for, creates an overall mushy mouth feel. By the end of the burrito the flavors had all blended together. I ended up holding the burrito like a dip container and used the remaining chips' saltiness to help break up the monotony of rich flavors.

I'm not entirely sure if I was just unlucky, but the bacon present was akin to bacon bits and not the roughly chopped strips I am used to. What price point allows for 2 strips of bacon? Do I want to know?

I left Huckleberry a little richer with knowledge and a little poorer with money. $6 at Lucy's or Lucky Boy can buy the Robin Hood of burritos to steal Huckleberry's lunch money and redistribute it to the more efficient, so unless you hate money don't waste your time on this one.

Trials and Tribulations in Taft

I went back to Taft. After what happened last time I felt obligated to find something, at the very least, decent, so I asked around and was informed that Vicente's was a supposed local favorite.

When I arrived I was greeted by an eager young man who was all questions about the fine cuisine of Bakersfield. He produced best of lists for me to weigh-in on, and his enthusiasm for food was commendable.

I ordered the "Damn Good Burrito" which normally is served wet, but I asked for the outsides be placed in as to stick with my rules of engagement. What arrived had a dollop of sour cream and guacamole next to a burrito with a meager amount of pre-shredded cheese on top. I scraped the cheese to the side and took my first bite.

Turns out my first bite is closely related to my last bite. I tried to help things out with the "home made" salsa which tasted like novacaine without any of the fun part. The rice is mushy, the beans unseasoned, and the steak did more harm than good. Perhaps if they had put the dollops inside my burrito, the flavorless mess may have been masked in the confusion. Alas, I paid and left the now baffled server to contemplate my new found sense of gtfo.

Not broken nor full I persevered towards a better burrito horizon.

In the parking lot of La Salsa I spied the menu to only have wet burritos, sloppy at that, displayed proudly, so I carried on.

Down the street a lonely taqueria promised food, but the lack of patrons at lunchtime in a pure oil town dissuaded me from making a stop. Until a sea of white trucks materialized around a lone market.

Tacos Y Mariscos Casa Tabares in big black letters on an even bigger white sign is beacon for all weak and weary seeking sustenance. I walked in and asked the first patron I saw, "is this the place?" And without hesitation he answered a resounding, "Yup!"

The blue collars matched my own as they lined up past the salsa bar. The tables were full, and a variety of standards were being consumed leading me to believe this place knows what they are doing.

A couple rig hands asked if I liked spicy, and told me that it might be too much for me but I should try the orange salsa. My pride wanted to shout "YOU DON'T KNOW ME!" but I took it in stride and poured myself a cup of this fabled salsa. One hand starts listing off a bunch of home applications for this particular salsa. He keeps a bottle on hand for when he gets tired, or when he gets a cold, or when he runs out of gas... The list of things this salsa can do is mighty impressive if he is to be believed.

I order the asada burrito and grab a cup of the orange. My first bite was fantastic as the simple beans, rice, and steak mix stood on its own, but when I poured out the orange puree on to a single bite I was in awe. The amount of heat was the perfect flavor enhancer while giving a solid warning to those who may venture too liberal with the application. Not too hot as my my salsa steward would have me believe, but a damn good salsa.

I have found a good burrito in Taft! Not only good, but exceptional with one of my new favorite salsas. I never thought I would actually be excited to head back out to Taft, but Casa Tabares is a beacon of promise in the desert.

Panda Gordo - Bakersfield, CA

One of my favorite people to take out on the town is myself. I'll put on something nice, pick a direction, and head that way ready for whatever the world has for me. This particular Saturday night was all about Niles on the East Side. 

Growing up Niles was the cruising street where everyone would gather their tricked out cars and drive 15mph past the burger joints, arcades, bars, and food shops blasting music. Nowadays that aspect is all but gone, but the neighborhood is dotted with taco trucks, food carts, and 24 hour taquerias for the bleary-eyed late night traveler.

On my way to treat myself I passed a truck set up on Mt. Vernon just before Niles with a sign displaying a chubby bespectacled nerdy fellow squaring off with Kung Fu Panda bordered with color cycling neon LED lights. It was then I knew I was in for a good night. 

I decided to start simple with an Asada burrito, but the they threw in an arrachera taco as a free sample. Never having arrachera before I am pleased to say it was wonderful. So tender it fell apart in my mouth and seasoned much like the asada. Arrachera style utilizes the same cuts of meat as asada, but the meat is tenderized and then marinated to remove any toughness while imbuing tons of flavor. 

The burrito wrap was a handmade tortilla thick and fluffy almost like a gordita with a nice golden brown coloring. It gave a great chew to coincide with the chunky thick-cut steak. Lots of melted cheese mixed with the refried beans and rice, and yet the whole thing somehow felt light and airy as I munched down. 

The night continued with tacos from a handful of trucks as I made my way down Niles. Scratch-made, hand-sized beauties from Lonches Marlene, and freshly sliced off the spit al pastor tacos from the outside grills of Tacolandia. 

I returned home fatter and happier than I had left strengthening the bonds with who I am and what I love. Don't forget to love yourself, and what better way to say "I love you" than with good food. 

Any Suggestions?

I would like to begin by saying thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged, subscribed, or even took the time out to read this collection of burrito reviews. Your support and suggestions make this a rewarding endeavor more so than I ever expected.

So far I have created a twitter, tumblr, and blogspot for Burrito Life, but I would like to continue expanding and offering more for the readership. Would more visual content with burrito-themed posts to pad out the days in between reviews be helpful/fun? I want to keep the focus of this blog on burrito reviews, but if I can make the site more interesting with a diverse array of supplemental content, then let me know.

The question I am most often asked, "what's the best burrito?" is a tough one given the subjectivity in tastes not to mention the complex creations that are burritos. My question to you, reader, is what kind of lists would you like to see? Top asada, best breakfast burritos, spiciest chile verde and other lists documenting the best I've found in each category could be made, and clear links then added to the homepage.

Speaking of a homepage, I am thinking about creating a source webpage that seeds the tumblr, blog, and twitter. This way tumblr feeds are no longer filled with huge blocks of text, and the media isn't so diluted across the different social networks. If you are interested in finishing the article, simply click the read more.

This would also allow me to provide more tools to you in which to search the blog. I'd like suggestions on what kinds of links you'd like to see on the page. I'm thinking an FAQ and reviews by location are of the utmost importance, but any ideas as to what I could add?

T shirts are in the concept stage, but I want to make something nice. Once the art is nailed down I will start shopping around for the manufacturer.

Once again, thank you so very much. The people I've met and conversations I've had because of this blog make it more than worth it. You guys are truly amazing, and I'm glad to share my burrito experiences with you. Please comment, message, or shoot me an ask for all suggestions.

Sincerly,
Jimmy Holliday aka BurritoShepherd

Burritos With My Grandfather

I started the day looking for a new burrito spot. I did not start the day looking to be leveled by nostalgia.

I was driving down North Chester towards La Tapatia which happens to be a lot of Bakersfield's first experience with Mexican food, but I've never once eaten there because my grandfather always took me across the street a few businesses down to El Taquito.

See, this small shack on a broken asphalt slab was right across from his then favorite bar Bud's which later turned into the Long Branch. He spent many a night drinking, fighting, and earning the stories he would one day impart to me across a small wooden table in the brick corner of the burrito joint across the street.

My grandfather ran a lawn service of sorts, and, on the days I would help, we would head over to El Taquito dragging our heels towards the day's beginning. He would tell me, "You can never be late. You arrive when you get there." I may have lost a few jobs over that bit of advice, but I've been able to keep a few more hairs than he had at my age.

Plied with chips and salsa, my grandfather would jump from story to story whether it was about the time he knocked a guy out and his head went under the cigarette machine saving him from further pummeling or the time his wife shot him after she and my great-grandmother were good and drunk arguing over who was going to pull the trigger.

This was the only time in my life when I felt equal with Jim. Like both of our voices were valid. When we were out earning money together, eating asada burritos, and shooting the shit over a bowl of chips. He gave up drinking before I could ever get one in, so the the Coke's over crushed-ice would have to do.

Now, I'm older, and I'm not much on family. Too many wrongs demanding too much to ever make it right have left me stronger and more independent, but sometimes I can feel the hole. It sneaks in and spreads out during quiet times, and then I'm stuck waxing poetic through the dirty window of a taco shop as an old junky pedals his daughter around in the basket of a beat up bicycle.

I savor the asada taco in between bites of everything else. Holding on to it, knowing that the steak is the last thing I want to taste this morning. I mix the pico de gallo with the red sauce like we always did. I spooned it over everything like we always did. But I'm alone, there is no conversation, and I can see his gap-toothed smile like a ghost pulled up a chair.

The man behind the counter didn't understand what I meant when I said I used to have breakfast here with my grandfather. Why I tipped $5 for the $10 meal. I recognized him from when I was a kid, but I'm sure he didn't recognize me. But maybe someday someone will look back on a meal we shared and the good hurt will wash over them, reminding them to slow down and savor what you have with those you love.

King Taco, Los Angeles

Let's get one thing clear before I divulge my experiences with King Taco. They make a good taco for a good price, and I could eat 10 of them. They pile on the asada, there's good spicy red salsa, and the onions and cilantro deliver as one would expect from a quality Taqueria.

Now, if I really wanted 10 tacos, would I be willing to put up with the overall experience of ordering at King Taco? Hmm...

I guess that's a long line...

When I arrived there was a bit of a line. Maybe 15 people were ahead of me, not Pink's level, but enough to assume the place is doing something right. The tables all seemed to be filled with patrons not eating but waiting to receive their orders while only two of the three registers available were taking orders.

All told D and I were in line for close to 30 minutes until we were allowed to order some tacos, a nacho, and an al pastor burrito because their huge pork spit was seducing me with its slow turns. Another 15 minutes before our food is called out, and I am able to survey this chronophagic assemblage.

The first thing I notice is how small this burrito I just paid $6 for is, and I'm cautiously optimistic in hoping they aren't skimping on ingredients so -- blah blah balh big things in small packages blah blah -- nope, none of that.

I thought it may have been overly-cooked onions mixed with the raw or possibly heavy use of cilantro, but something was definitely off in the al pastor flavor department. Nothing blends in the burrito, so every bite is an unpleasant hodgepodge of mediocre ingredients.

The nachos took me back to high school lunch lines with the chips being poured out of a 5 pound bag into a bin with Chernobyl yellow cheese sauce pumped out on top. Hardly the stuff of kings, but one may be fooled by the $5 chips and cheese price tag.

I'm almost certain my high school wasn't staffed with above-average, volunteer, teenage food service workers, so I can't imagine why it took them so long to assemble this meal. Perhaps what is even more vexing is why anyone would wait around for this quality of food when Los Angeles hosts more Mexican food restaurants and taco trucks than any other place in the US.

Over-priced food, under-whelming flavors, and thoroughly disappointing wait times leaves me shaking rather than bowing my head to King Taco.

Chips & Salsa

There's nothing sadder than a cook who thinks he's a chef.

When I sat down to order the Giant Burrito with steak I did not expect the cook to put on a show with the garnish. Two (steamed? boiled?) whole green onions were curled up like a crime scene on top with some sort of red onion minced concoction piled beside it. The acrid smell wafting up from the burrito smelled not unlike a gym bag soaked in bath water.

Lesser reviewers may have given up right here, but I pushed the accoutrements aside to delve in to what looks like, by the inside, a meal with promise.

The steak is perhaps a bit over-cooked and the rice is under-seasoned, but the over-all combination is decent. The onions have impregnated the tortilla, thus my hands, with their stench, but I persevere heaping on the salsa and trying to lose myself inside the burrito where the smell has yet to reach.

Dispersing the ingredients evenly is not one of their strong suits as I am frequently met with gobs of sour cream and bushels of lettuce chiffonade.

The beer is cold and the waitress has a nice smile, but I can't get beyond those damn green onions. Did you lose your sense of smell in a grease fire?

One final note, the chips were of the red and yellow variety and the salsa was more akin to a bland soup. For a place that took the name "Chips & Salsa" one would think they may try and shine in that area. Maybe the time they devote to stewing onions for the garnish they could learn how to fry up some tortillas and make more than one salsa for dipping, but I digress.

At least there's beer. If you drink enough of it, you can probably ignore their shortcomings.

Doctor Strangebreakfast: or how I learned to stop worrying and love poverty

¡Escribe Ahora!

"Write Now Wednesdays" is the day I take time to explain facets of Burrito Life or expand opinions touched upon in previous articles. This week we begin a series by guest writer Devon Ashby.

So in my early twenties, like most people, I went through a financial trial-by-fire period of not really being able to feed myself properly.

In my particular case, this was due to the trifecta of being unemployed, not wanting to live at home anymore, and not having very good sense about how to manage my money. My roommate and I were mentally and financially coordinated enough never to lack for toilet paper, Diet Coke, cigarettes, or cheap, gut-poisoning liquor products, but a majority of the hot meals we consumed came from the $5 pizza restaurant next to our Laundromat, or out of a box with a big orange 99 cent sticker on it.

Aside from the perennial stand-bys of ramen noodles and pasta, three ingredients were always present in our otherwise threadbare kitchen, and those three staples transformed what could have been a purgatory of darkness, self-doubt, and chronic stomachaches into a magical period of gustatory self-discovery. Those three ingredients were: fresh tortillas, chorizo, and eggs.

Prior to moving out of my parents’ house, I’m pretty sure I was at least introduced to the concept of breakfast burritos. Tragically, however, I have no specific early memories of my experiences with this fateful staple of my transitional adulthood. With aforementioned budgetary constraints mapping out an entirely new grocery template, though, I knew I would have to start getting creative, or resign myself indefinitely to a menu of empty carbohydrates, tinfoil seasoning packets, and processed cheeses. Tortillas and eggs seemed like a no-brainer since they’re two of the cheapest foods you can buy, and with the bulk of the work established, the rest of my grocery list fell rapidly into step. Breakfast burritos became a three-or-four-nights-a-week tradition.

To be continued...

Los Altos

Finding a good burrito within walking distance of the house is like finding a twenty on the ground, so when I found Los Altos on Chester and 2nd I didn't expect them to deliver like they did.

I began with their chorizo breakfast burrito which is a little odd for me because I tend to go with plain breakfast sausage for my first go around, but ham, bacon, and chorizo were the only options.

I tend to shy away from chorizo due to many experiences with burnt brown chorizo bits sopped in bright red grease. Chorizo doesn't change colors like most meats when cooked through, but will change colors when burned. The amount of cooks who either don't know this or choose not to care is baffling.

With this knowledge I interrogated the lady a bit on the quality of their chorizo, and she said confidently it was good but the cook chimed in "it's great" with a tone in his voice like I challenged him to a duel.

It was on. He took his time cooking every ingredient fresh, and the smells coming form the open kitchen were promising, if not intoxicating.

My eyes widened with the first chomp. Everything is in its place. The eggs are cooked down to the little eggy crumbles, but the huge kicker is the chorizo. No grease. No wet tortilla. No shiny hands. Perfect bright red bits mixed into the burrito without being burnt and carrying flavors rare to the world of chorizo BBs.

Around $5 and just as many blocks from my place I found something special. Thank you, Los Altos, for teaching the world the beauty of well-prepared chorizo so close to my house, and now close to my heart.

Rubio's Fresh Mexican Grill

FAFU FRIDAY!!!

Every Friday I review a chain restaurant to incorporate more of the readership into all of the burrito fun. 

Rubio's hails from San Diego, but has setup all along the western United States hocking "fresh mex" ranging from fish tacos to gourmet burritos. 

"Fresh mex" or "new wave Mexican" is an insipid movement particularly common in the US combining traditional Mexican with ingredients reserved usually for haute cuisine. Cilantro infusions, avocado soups, and tomato reductions are applied to accentuate different flavors hidden in simple dishes. 

Of course, Rubio's is still a casual dining experience more akin to fast food than the French Laundry, but the core principles still define what separates this restaurant from your average walk-up. 

I opted for the Burrito Especial with steak and swapped the citrus-rice for more traditional orange party rice. Romaine lettuce, whole black beans, salsa fresca, guacamole, chipotle sauce, and red tomato salsa are also crammed into this burrito making me think one thing: you're trying too hard. 

Don't get me wrong, burrito, you taste fine, but your insecurities are showing with how much you tug my taste buds every which way. There is so much going on it all kind of blends together into one androgynous tongue-numbing thump. No heat. No spice. Just a cacophony of flavors banging loudly all at once. 

Luckily, their salsa bar is mighty, stocked with pickled carrots and jalapenos, four different salsas, golden state peppers, and lemons which allowed me to heat up and contextualize separate sections of my flavor experience. 

Not to sound like a Luddite, but I tend to get lost in less-traditional, high-cuisine burritos that seek to improve upon solid classics. I know my burrito was assembled by a teenager, but they are still approaching the equation wrong by adding chipotle sauces and citrus rices to round out my burrito rather than trusting the steak and salsa to do their jobs. 

Other places have succeeded in bringing something truly unique which elevates burrito culture like the Kogi trucks or expands the definition like Oki-Dogs, but sometimes it can all be too much and nothing is gained, 

...and quick side note: What the hell was up with the side of black pepper bean soup? I had beans in my burrito, and yet you felt the need to give me an entire cup as a side. Thanks?