El Sitio - Ventura, CA

Nuzzled in snugly to Django's Coffee House in Ventura, CA is a small, unassuming delight. My guide on this adventure raves about the al pastor, so we decide to split a burrito and load up on salsas. 

Being our third burrito of the day, one may question the voracity of our appetites, but rest-assured the allure of marinated pork swaddled in a thick chewy tortilla can coax a growl out of the fullest of stomachs. 

Succulent and tender bits of pork were buried deep in a fiery spectrum of rice, beans, and spices. A welcome counterpoint to the airy cuts of shark and substantial chunks of steak. Lesser spots may try to skirt by on the same pork used for the carnitas only to dress up the differences between al pastor and chile verde as the sauce one uses, but this pork had the char of slow braising after being massaged with spices to differentiate from such imposters.

The salsas were fresh and effective, but I fancied the orange habanero most for its complexity and heat.

By far the most out of the way spot located in a quiet neighborhood in the more suburban part of Ventura, but well worth a stop to round out the day. 

Three more remain as we prepare for the return of Chris the Sound Guy and his episode showcasing the burrito adventure in its full splendor. 

Surf N Taco - Ventura, CA

I went to Santa Paula and Ventura to hit some of the spots you guys had recommended as well as record an episode for my friend's local radio show: Chris the Sound Guy here in Bakersfield. It will be airing this Thursday @ 5pm, and the entire one hour episode documents our burrito adventure down in Ventucky. I will be posting a link to the podcast once it goes live.

One of FIVE stops on our coastal excursion is Surf N' Taco located on Baja Bay in the marina. Ocean air seasons the meal with lapping waves and sail boats visible from the parking lot. Halibut and shrimp options worried my underdeveloped sea palette, but when I read "Shark" the decision was made.

My shark burrito arrived in an with freshly fried chips in an ocean blue cardboard tray. The cross-section cut revealed a gorgeous shark filet surrounded by rice, beans, cheese, and cabbage with a verde salsa on the side in a cup. The bite was tender and flaky with a clean finish. No disturbing sea funk contaminating the flavors.

This was a welcome respite from the heavier contenders of the day allowing my waistline to breathe a little bit before resuming the fray.

The chips and salsa were forgettable leaving Chris no other option but Tapatio for spiciness.

Not every day do I get to eat Jaws or consume the meal equivalent of shark week, so I definitely recommend Surf & Taco to lovers of seafood. 

Some behind the scenes information for those wondering. Yes, we ate 5 burritos, but 4 of those were cut in half for a couple of reasons. One, we didn't want to get so stuffed as to not be able to give proper reviews, and two, cutting the burrito in half allows for pretty pictures. The day of reviews was spread out over about 8 hours. I suggest using some form of this technique if you wish to emulate a burrito adventure.

Tinga - Los Angeles, CA

Sometimes a place gets me on a personal level. The style and delivery at Tinga on La Brea in LA fits right into my aesthetic. From the taco and burrito inspired art of Brett Westfall plastered over the walls, including some great murals in the bathrooms, to the southeast Asian meets southwest American inspired cuisine. If I were to tell someone how I want a restaurant to look, this would probably be it.

I ordered the chicken tinga burrito and short rib tacos to split with D. Of course, I threw in a few cold lagers to wash everything down. The shredded chicken swims in a chipotle sauce which reminds me of a peanut curry with black beans, gaucamole, lettuce, chipotle salsa, montery jack, and crema creating a wonderfully rich bite all piled into what appears to be a scratch-made tortilla. Every bite made me wonder why there isn't more Mexican/Indian fusion in the world. Channa samosa chimichangas for days.

 The braised short rib tacos were less than stellar with the beef slightly under-seasoned although fall apart tender, and the fluffy rustic handmade tortilla ripping underneath the weight of all the fixings. I may not have minded so much if the taco tortilla added flavor or texture, but it was spongy in the wrong ways and overall bland. Kind of surprising due to the emphasis on tacos in the Tinga menu. The ingredients were a bit tryhard here with ginger and shitake marinade, pickled red cabbage, salsa verde, papas bravas (rough-cut roasted potatoes), queso fresco, and crema. Interesting flavor combinations to be sure, but they lack cohesiveness. It felt like culinary shock and awe leaving my pallet with PTSD. 

Great service, a nice selection of seasonal light beers, and a window painting of a taco cowboy riding a unicorn elevated the entire experience to a whole new level. A lot can be said for the relaxed atmosphere and sense of humor at Tinga. I hope to explore more of their menu with the conchita pibil and lamb adobo at the top of my hit list. 

I know you wanted to see it. 

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.

Burritos and Privilege

The amount of sheer joy I derive from living in California in such close proximity to some of the best food America has to offer is often hard to put into words. My town alone has a large population of Latinos, Sikhs, Vietnamese, and a host of various Asian transplants which elevate the local cuisine to delectable heights.

There are mosques and temples, fish markets and panaderias, flea markets, outdoor malls, and a host of experiences to initiate the curious, but I have found the easiest way to learn about a culture is through their food. 

Growing up in Bakersfield there has been no shortage of exposure to Latino culture from quinceaneras, school assemblies with folklorico dancing, weekend swap meets, pinadas, day of the dead celebrations, and the majority of my friends' families who fed and helped raise me into who I am today. 

However, I think a lot of people take for granted this diversity, and some have even come to expect the world to kowtow to their whims. Due to their inherent privilege they assume a level of comfort and respect at all times, and when that is encroached upon they are willing to write off an entire experience.

People sometimes tell me the place I recommended to them had rude service, they were ignored, or they felt like they were being talked down to, and, more often than not, this is a white person entering a predominantly non-white establishment. It is not hard to imagine the same experience is often flipped with non-whites in a white establishment feeling patronized or disrespected by an assumed prejudice employee. Neither side's intent has to be prejudice, but the perception of a new experience can be distorted by ignorance.

Once, I was ordering pizza in the Bronx, and I was confused as to why the guy at the counter would not take my money. He handed me my slices, gave me the drinks, and there was nothing left for me to do but take it to my table and eat. After repeated attempts to hand him money he looked at me with disgust. I paid after I ate and later asked a cab driver why this happened, and he explained that the guy was Italian and most places in New York have more of a "European" way of doing things: you don't pay until you have eaten your food. Here I was righteously indignant when I had been the rude one inadvertently offending him.

This was reinforced at The Algonquin when I waited for a half hour on my check in a not that busy restaurant. I later discovered rushing me out of a table is a faux pas. On both these occasions I thought I was being messed with, but it is just the way things are handled in that culture. In California the server is flipping tables as fast as possible to get the next tip in, but by the end of my stay in New York I was having 1 to 2 hour meals. 

It is no secret America has a rich history of not being kind to others, and those in the privileged class grow used to privileges. When the kitchen tables have turned and said person of privilege finds themselves on the receiving end of discrimination one should chalk it up to an adventure in empathy rather than an excuse to demonize an establishment. Remember that the next time you perceive something off about your service. It is a privilege to get to partake in their culture and have them prepare their food for you. The price of the meal buys so much more than food, but it does not buy you respect. Like anywhere else, respect is earned, so be thankful for the opportunity to earn it. 

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

Taco Truck Tuesday - Taqueria Tacambaro

After compiling a list of every taco truck I could find in the Kern county area my first stop was a little hidden truck on Olive Drive in a gas station parking lot called Taqueria Tacambaro. Promising handmade torillas and sporting a healthy amount of patrons gathered under the adjacent tent I had a good feeling about this one.

Most everyone there was eating nachos. Huge piles of chips covered with every ingredient that has ever graced a nacho looked glorious, but this is not Nacho Life.

I order the Asada burito for simplicity's sake, and wait a healthy amount of time for my burrito to be prepared. Whenever it comes out quickly in a one-man taco truck outfit BEWARE!

A clean brick of a burrito is served neatly with a lemon wedge and salsa cup, and my mouth is beginning to water.

Ain't nothing wrong with my first bite, so it has to be right. The steak carries the burrito as it should with a supporting cast of beans, rice, lettuce, cheese, and sour cream. It's exceptionally satisfying and more than enough food to satiate the hungriest of us.

It may seem a bit expensive with the $7 price tag, but with handmade tortillas and quality ingredients I cannot complain. If charging an extra dollar nets quality gains as opposed to the majority of haphazard slapdashery that passes for burritos, then I will gladly pay $2. Too often have I been burned by the promises of a $10 restaurant burrito.

Please excuse me, I think I hear nachos calling my name.

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.

Delimart - Bakersfield, CA

If you ask most any oilfield worker, shop hand, or truck driver in the Rosedale area where to get the best breakfast burrito, the majority will steer you towards a convenience store on the corner of Rosedale Hwy and Fruitvale Ave, and the majority would be lying.

Delimart serves up all the typical diner foods, but the breakfast crowd comes for one of two things: the biscuits and gravy or the humongous breakfast burritos.

I'm a large dude with a good appetite, and finishing one half of the petite burrito at Delimart is a monumental task. Any sane person ordering the regular sized BB solely for themselves needs to be reevaluated.

Scrambled eggs, hash browns, and cheddar cheese make up the base to which ham, bacon, sausage, or the combo, consisting of all three, can be added. My own spin is The Big Bad Wolf doing the burrito combo style and adding gravy inside to blow the three little pigs down.

The misconception with Delimart's BB is that biggest translates to best. I prefer a smaller more concentrated effort in my burritos with the focus being on flavor and consistency. When burritos begin to take on the weight, cost, and dimensions of a brick, I tend to lose interest. One has to question the quality of a $5 dollar burrito that weighs upwards of 2 pounds.

I pleaded with the cashier to cook down the hash browns until they are well done, but he told me the potatoes, eggs, and cheese are all in a mix and preparing them any other way would be impossible. Thus, I received hash whites and a bunch of meat flotsam on this final voyage to Delimart for breakfast.

There is no body to this burrito. Everything chews like paste providing zero depth or separation of flavor. The gravy is of the bland white variety, but does a good job melting down the bag cheese. There's Tapatio and Pace salsa cups on offer, but nothing really helps wash away the whiteness.

There are better options on Rosedale highway for a BB fix like here or here, so don't waste your time with this one.

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.

Lucky Boy Drive-In

There's a soft spot in my heart for Pasadena. It feels like a greener, more metropolitan version of my town while maintaining a minimum of traffic and insincerity seemingly more common to other parts of Los Angeles.

Dat Bacon!

Lucky Boy Drive-In closes at 2am with only 4 hours of downtime before starting back up with their amazing breakfast burritos. These breakfast behemoths are packed with delicious thick cuts of dark brown crispy bacon, and the whole sausage links create a structural integrity not unlike rebar. Hash browns, cheddar cheese, and fluffy eggs assembled like the cook might have made this burrito a million times leaves only the cups of fresh spicy salsa to pour on at your discretion.

There was no way I could finish the burrito, but not for lack of trying. The only disappointment was in myself. Why can I not get all of this in my stomach?

It was so good I went back the next afternoon for a pastrami sandwich. Not for any other reason than I love a good pastrami, and I'm on a constant search for one to beat my all-time favorite here back in Bakersfield. I'm happy to report they don't only make amazing breakfast burritos because this was on point.

Lucky Boy is one in a long line of traditional diners. It can be greasy. It is definitely not healthy, but these flavors and techniques are the backbone of American comfort food.

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 Cuñados

If there ain't a spit, their al pastor ain't shit.

Alright, good.

My buddy, Hector, tells me there's a spot on Chester near Ming in Bakersfield that sells out constantly, and they are only open for dinner and the drunks. Sounds exactly like the spot I need to get my burrito fix.

Los Cuñados is parked in front of one of those shady rent-to-own outfits in a bedraggled asphalt lot with pot holes and evil on display. The bright halogen lights and neon signs act as a beacon in the night, ferrying wayward souls towards burrito salvation.

For most of my life, I have never been excited by al pastor. I thought of it as a funky carnitas substitute because I didn't know, nor had I had, better. Then D took me to Tacos Leo in Los Angeles, and the whole world of Middle-East meets Southwest opened up for me.

Al pastor directly translates to "shepherd-style" referring to the shawarma technique brought over by Lebanese immigrants. Shawarma involves spit-grilling meats and slicing off the outer-layers to fill your vessel of choice.

The guys manning the truck hooked it up fat with a super tasty burrito. There is a good amount of chilis and spices used on the meat, but not over-powering like I'm chewing on a chili mango sucker. I heavily employed both the red and green salsas not for lack of flavor but because both are so good. Other fixings like lemons, carrots, onions, and radishes are also available.

I'm not sure I needed another reason to drink then eat burritos, but I'll take it. If you are looking for authentic al pastor in Bakersfield, you'd be hard-pressed to find a better spot.

Secret Spot

Behind a gas station in a strip mall on the waterfront in Huntington Beach is a vegan beach bum heaven known as Secret Spot. "Kind Grub" is on the sign, and the atmosphere is artsy with paintings for sale all over the small dining room walls. 

There are at least 5 different breakfast burritos offering a variety of vegetables and meat substitutes. I chose the #4 which has potatoes, avocado, eggs, cheese, salsa, and soyrizo for my meat (black forest ham and vegi turkey are also available). I'm a big fan of soyrizo, and if I ever take the vegi plunge, soyrizo will become a mainstay in my diet. 

Perhaps it was the salty air or the sleepyheaded cook and cashier, but the first word that came to mind upon biting was "dank." This burrito is filled to capacity with big chunks of avocado adding a mellow counterpoint to the big spices of the soyrizo. 

The potatoes gave a much appreciated boost to the body of the burrito complemented yet again by the hearty avocados. 

No compromises are made in flavor due to the lack of meat, and I imagine most people would find it hard distinguishing good soyrizo from chorizo. 

Minor gripe to the burrito coming out to almost $9, and the chips and soupy salsa tasting like despair. One of the most expensive breakfast burritos I've ever had because eating "cruelty-free" gets expensive. 

They have less expensive basic breakfast burritos, but the more complex flavors are what separates and elevates Secret Spot to a worthy stop next time I'm having a day at the beach. 

To Bean or Not To Bean

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"Write Now Wednesdays" is the day I take time to explain facets of Burrito Life or expand opinions touched upon in previous articles. 

The magical fruit often comes in one of two pinto varieties when met on the burrito plane: refried or ranch. Each serve their own purpose accompanying a burrito. From flavors and textures to more expedient causes like binding and structural integrity. 

"Refried beans" is actually a misnomer since beans are often only fried once, mashed, and then sometimes baked rather than double-fried. Due to the mashed consistency, flavor depth rarely passes the first dimension solidifying refried beans as a sidekick to other more complex ingredients. 

Often used as a base in burrito fillings, the beans cement every other ingredient into place preventing uneven bites. The added benefits of refried beans are the insulation to hold in heat and the way the wetness of the beans tenderizes heartier ingredients. 

A tastier, and frequently healthier option available upon request at most restaurants are ranch-style beans or "pot beans." Pot beans are soaked, boiled with spices, then generous amounts of cilantro and/or pico de gallo can be added before serving. The range of flavor is near unlimited.  

Textures, tastes, and fragrances become more dynamic and complex when pot beans are in play. This leaves a lot of room for experimentation allowing cooks to introduce new spices or venture entirely away from the ubiquitous pinto bean. 

Then again, some restaurants don't know beans. Asking the cook to the hold our leggy friend might be the best addition to the meal. Chile Verde burritos tend to be wet, so adding a heap of sloppy beans may soak through the tortilla leaving a mess in your lap.

In the burrito life there is no nobility to suffering. Whatever bean you choose, be sure it makes you happy.  

Taco Truck Tuesday - Truck Vs Truck

Carne Asada Burrtio From Estilo Jalisco

Al Pastor Burrito From Tacos Jalisco

Two taco trucks take refuse near Pacheco on Union in South Bakersfield: Tacos Jalisco and Estilo Jalisco. Located directly across from each other, these warring brethren go taco for taco every evening. 

At first glance, the competition seems trivial as I approach Tacos Jalisco in full swing with 15 hungry customers waiting patiently outside. I order an al pastor burrito and one asada taco, and my buddy crossed the way to order Asada burritos from Estilo Jalisco. 

In the time I sat waiting for the AP burritos form TJ I could have ordered 16 burritos from EJ, but I'm a patient person willing to wait for good food. To be fair, EJ was not working against a crowd like their mirror match. 

We returned to my buddy's house to assess our bounty in uninterrupted earnest. 

TJ's presentation brings a lot of color instantly activating my salivary glands while EJ's salsas and burrito take on a much milder tone with the tortilla appearing grey by comparison. 

My first bite of the al pastor is filled with flavor, but the next few bites were a little heavy on the cilantro which was packed into a tight green tube running the length of the burrito. Both the green and red salsas brought a good amount of depth, I preferred the red, but not a lot of heat to be found in either option. 

The asada, on the other hand, is well-seasoned, not over, and has the dimensions and weight of a brick. No nonsense to be found, just the basics done well. The salsas here are hotter, but lack the freshness and pop of TJ's salsa. 

If the al pastor is a sports car with all its flash and show, the asada is an old beater you can always depend on to get you from a to b. 

There are better places for both burritos in Bakersfield, but I have to give the overall win to Taco Jalisco's al pastor burrito. Its fresh ingredients and flavorful salsas went a long way towards securing victory. EJ's asada is a good solid effort, but in a town only a few hours from Mexico good asada isn't in short supply.

That said, after having TJ's asada taco, maybe they should cross the street and ask their neighbors for help. With the impressive quality of the al pastor and salsa the shallow tongue-numbing flavor in their steak was appalling. 

Super Tom's

The parallels between Super Tom’s breakfast burrito and Oildale, CA are many and deep.

For those of you not familiar with the Kern county landscape Oildale is a microcosm of trailer parks, dirt bikes, methamphetamine, and minimalist fashion statements such as bare feet and spiderweb tattoos. You know, stuff white people like. 

Super Tom’s is located at one of Oildale’s hellmouths beyond the Chester bridge at Roberts Lane, and offers standard diner fare including the ever-present BB. 

Much like Oildale, Tom’s BB is lacking in taste. Potatoes possibly just pulled from boiling water. Cheddar cheese, eggs, sausage, and a pico de gallo mix all make appearances, but lack any memorable or particularly exciting characteristics. 

No egregious errors in flavor, but it is pretty hard to mess up something that’s not there.

Lots of burritos turn out this way and are served all over the place. They are adequate in a pinch, and satisfy some people’s need for a tortilla aggregated breakfast. However, just because lots of people do it and it works doesn’t mean you should. Much like not wearing shoes.

Super Tom’s breakfast burrito is the bare feet of breakfast.