The Burrito Life

Perhaps it is like the effervescent steam wafting above sizzling carne asada on a flattop or, maybe, more akin to the dissipating fog clearing slow from the asphalt. The morning mist joins mourning lovers of cold nights greeted by a sun too confident in its promise of safety and light dreaming up lofty visions for future burritos yet to be had.

A rose will bloom, it then will fade, but not my passion for tortilla-swaddled food.

In my absence I have learned many things about myself. I have discovered unprecedented skills in procrastination. A debilitating fear of success and failure ever-present in my day to day life. The experience of eating a burrito in a hovel far surpasses any words I may write about it, but that does not diminish the importance of the attempt.

In 2014 I consumed hundreds, literally multiples of 100 burritos. I traveled up and down California with a brief jaunt into Arizona tracking the best burritos the West Coast had to offer. I spoke with proprietors of establishments dating back to the early 20th century. I was leveled by nostalgia in a rundown taco shop. I was interviewed on a burrito excursion for radio. I was featured in the local paper with a front page mention and a full page spread. And then I documented it all and shared it with you.

And you read it!

Thank you. Sincerely, thank you for everything. For suggestions, for recommendations, for reading and sharing with your friends and family. I appreciate it more than you know.

So I guess I'm writing to say that I will be updating this again. I hope the posts are informative, but I also want them to be more personal. Some of my favorite posts from the last year are a good mix of culinary critique, op-ed ranting, and pure unadulterated confession.

If you are still around, enjoy.

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. 

The Case For More Veggie Burritos

A friend of mine who is vegetarian asked me about the best veggie burritos I have had. This made me realize two things: 1. though a quality selection of vegetarian options exist like here and here, there are too few represented in this blog, and 2. I eat A LOT of meat.

To do the math of how many animals I have consumed is kind of shocking. One serving of meat equals one animal -- maybe -- per meal. Bacon for breakfast, turkey sandwich for lunch, and an asada burrito for dinner is at least 3 animals. Multiply that by 365 days for the last 20 years, and I am confronted with an astounding figure of over 20,000 animals.

I don't eat meat for every meal, but for every meatless meal there is probably a barbecue somewhere with a smorgasbord of chicken, sausage, and steaks to rack up the total.

This does not weigh down on me. I don't lose sleep over the food I consume, nor do I have any strong feelings one way or another what any person chooses to do with their diet. One of the quickest ways to see my eyes fog over is to mention "no harm" diets or list all the ways one idea is superior to the other.

That being said, I do believe the future of humanity will be vegetarian. Not because everyone will develop a distaste for meat, but because SCIENCE!

Scientists at the University of Missouri worked more than a decade developing a soy-based chicken substitute with all of the textures and look of chicken. Plant-based proteins have become so sophisticated when the labels on two different chicken salads, one meat-based and one plant-based, were accidentally swapped in production no one was the wiser until the company came forward to admit fault.

Soyrizo is a healthier alternative with nearly identical flavor and texture to traditional chorizo. Whenever the option is available, I'll go soyrizo every time.

Eliminating the need for massive farming operations, slaughterhouses, manure lagoons, and all of the resources going towards the raising and maintaining of millions of animals requires a meat substitute that is as tasty and, most importantly as cheap.

I think the main reason people are so quick to defend an omnivorous diet is socioeconomical. In America a McDonald's hamburger is cheaper and more readily available than an assemblage of produce needed to create a salad. As long as it is cheaper to eat meat vegetarianism will never be a viable option to the vast majority of the world's population.

Personally, I love meat. The vast array of flavors within a single cow boggles my mind and gets my salivary glands all worked up, but I'm willing to admit if I could experience all of it and never force a person to work slave wages in a field, harm another cow, or destroy the environment, I would prefer to be a vegetarian.

What this boils down to, for this blog anyway, is an attempt on my part to incorporate more vegetarian reviews. I want to be able to point towards the best chili relleno burrito just as easy as I do the best arrachera. More burritos for all!

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.

Doctor Strangebreakfast: or how I learned to stop worrying and love poverty (Part 2)

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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. This week we present the conclusion to last week's story by guest contributor, Devon Ashby.

These tortilla-wrapped masterpieces typically contained cheese – Havarti was a favorite when affordable, but shredded cheddar was my fallback. If it was really a hard-up week, different wet ingredients were substituted for the cheese (or added, just for the hell of it). Chorizo was my standby meat ingredient — beef, pork, cured and uncured – but bacon, diced ham, sausage in its many glorious forms, and even soyrizo all made appearances. The Beverly Discount Market at the end of our block routinely stocked 6-count bags of fresh tortillas, delivered from a bakery just a few streets up, so all I had to do when I ran out of wrappers was put on my shoes and walk to the corner. Other rotating guest stars included black beans, red beans, garlic cloves, fresh cilantro, avocado, rice of many colors and textures, grilled peppers, fresh and stewed tomatoes, and an impressive array of hot sauces and salsas.
 
To this day, breakfast burritos are an important signifier for me, and they’re special for a couple different reasons. I didn’t have a car and there was never enough money for gas anyway, so the frequent need to replenish my stash of ingredients forced me to actually leave my house and explore my own neighborhood. I was living right outside Koreatown in Los Angeles, an area dominated by Guatemalan and Salvadorean small businesses. By going out on foot so many times looking for shredded cheddar or chorizo, I realized that my neighborhood was a fucking goldmine – not just of fresh tortillas, chicharonnes and Guatemalan pastries, but of huge, gorgeous painted mural art. I spent whole afternoons just hoofing up and down the street, gawking at DIY signage for various toy stores, religious icon emporiums, electronic repair shops, and carnicerias, and occasionally wandering inside to examine stacks of 30 year old video game cartridges or mirrored, glass-protected displays of false teeth.

A tortilla stuffed with cheese, meat, and vegetables isn’t the healthiest food on the planet, or the most technically sophisticated. But the cheapness, availability, and raw creative potential of my ingredients usually added up to a pretty happy medium between flavor, nutrition, and affordability. This was the first time in my life I had to make choices about how to manage my resources and take care of myself, and coming home to a meal cooked in 10 minutes that flooded my tastebuds with ecstasy, contained fresh vegetables, and could be held with one hand while watching Jeopardy was one of the few recurring experiences in my life that made me feel I might actually be capable of someday getting my shit together.
 
Most importantly, without fully realizing what was happening, I had the chance to get really good at something, just by doing it over and over again, while still leaving myself some room to play around and experiment. This is probably the most important skill set I’ve ever learned, and the rest of my life’s formative experiences have pretty much just been variations on that same theme over and over again. Breakfast burritos taught me how to be an artist, and how to be an adult. I salute them.

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

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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. 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...

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.