free rommy New York → Kansas City → San Francisco → Stockholm → Berlin

Nostalgic for the Mission Burrito

I've been here for 15 months now.

In that time, my spoken and written english has devolved, my skin has become pale, my pants are now very snug and tight-fitting, my apartment is minimally decorated, and I've mellowed out considerably and swear a lot less (although my Swedish colleagues would argue I'm far from mellow and continue to border on crazy New Yorker, especially when the team is involved in a heated round of Battlefield Heroes).

Though all these things may seem like major changes to my lifestyle and behavior, none are quite as dramatic as my diet. I eat far more seafood here, in particular salmon and herring. The salmon is usually poached or baked, and the herring is either pickled or fried. In the winter, like the rest of the Swedes, I hunker down with meat and potatoes. The potatoes are most often boiled, sometimes roasted, and the meat can be in the form of a stew, broiled (like a steak), or baked (like a ham). I eat far less lamb (the northern Europeans I've met don't seem to like it as much) and less chicken.

As much as I appreciate the Swedish diet and enjoy it thoroughly, particularly for its very apparent health benefits (Swedes are beautiful, and it's no coincidence), I have desperate cravings for food that, in all of Europe, is nowhere to be found.

In three weeks, I'll be going stateside for a few major events: Thanksgiving in NY, my friend's wedding (also in NY), and the Tuk Tuk Goose fundraiser in San Francisco.

My trip to San Francisco will be the first one since I left almost a year and a half ago. I'm going back under the most desirable of circumstances. We're throwing a huge party to raise money for some amazing charities in the name of a fantastic adventure that I'll be partaking in with two great friends. I'll be seeing some close friends I haven't seen in a while and I'll have an entire weekend to spend with some of them (though I might argue that's not nearly enough). It'll be the holiday season, the tail-end of a crappy recession, and a good reason to consume mass amounts of alcohol in what will be a big homecoming celebration.

But most of all, I will look forward to the food. San Francisco has, for 30 years, been one of the culinary capitals of the US and furthermore of the world. It was from San Francisco (Berkeley actually), that Alice Waters kicked off an American gastronomic revolution in the 70s and is still today revolutionizing the way we look at not only the consumption of food, but the farming and distribution of it.

My initial thought upon scheduling my return was to see if I could get reservations to Thomas Keller's The French Laundry in Napa, a restaurant that sits among the top in the world. It was a place I never got to go to before I left and I have regretted it ever since. For a number of reasons I decided not to, including the fact that I didn't need to drop that much cash on one meal before heading half way around the world.

But luckily for me, San Francisco does not run short on options.

So rather than head to The French Laundry, I will be opting for the second-best option: the $5 burrito at a divey, cash-only taqueria where no one speaks english in the Mission District. I will likely be drunk when I go, and will likely have the runs when I wake up the next morning (apologies in advance to whomever will be putting me up for the weekend). But it will be the best burrito (and Mexican food) I will have consumed in 15 months and I will likely consume it in 15 minutes. And I can't wait.

The Mission taqueria is a street-food gastronomic experience, rivaling the NY pizzeria or deli, the Chicago hot dog stand, the French creperie, and the Swedish strömmingvagn. You wait in line in a divey taqueria surrounded by Mission hipsters and homeless men trying to sell you bicycles. The menu includes items such as tongue and brain. The six to seven men (and one to two women) are slaving over a hot industrial size grill preparing cow-sized portions of chopped meats trying to churn you through the line as fast as possible and never screwing up an order despite the mass chaos that ensues. The hardworking immigrant pursuing the American dream is an essential ingredient to the Mission taqueria.

The Mission Burrito (Source: Wikipedia...you know something has a badass reputation when it has its own Wikipedia page)

When you get the burrito, it's usually wrapped in foil. When you bite into it, it's a flavor explosion. Meat (carnitas, carne asada, pollo, etc), beans (black or pinto...NOT refried), rice, sour cream, guacamole, onions, and a whole lot of love overwhelms your senses leaving you crippled about halfway down into the monstrosity. And the only way to wash it down is with a tasty Mexican coke, Jarritos, or Dos Equis. The entire meal is 9000 calories of awesome.

And of course SFers, challenge me all you want here, but at the time I left El Farolito was still serving the best burritos I ever had in the Mission.

I can't wait.