By now, you've probably heard (or commented on) our naming (by blind taste test) of the top 7 burritos in San Francisco.
For this week's "Scenes of the City," we turned to a few of San Francisco's burrito joints and taco trucks that make all the magic possible.
Chorizo, white onion, cilantro and tomato sizzle on the stove top at Papalote in NOPA.
Unlike some more, ahem, corporate magazines that plot things out a year in advance, 7x7—with our editorial staff totaling six, including the art department—is often executed on a wing and a prayer.
Let’s just say pulling together February’s 7x7 magazine “Food + Love” cover story and the cover that went with it was quite a feat.
Though it evolved out of such innocence.
No jukebox blaring banda. No salsa, chips, or beer. Just pure burrito. In a blind taste test—analyzing everything from girth to beef-sear to ingredient distribution and harmony—five experts dig into six of the city’s most popular super carne asada burritos, with a ringer thrown in for fun (ahem, Chipotle). After some serious thought—and proof that even the best burritos can be flawed—conclusions were made.
1. El Farolito
1 ⅔ lbs ($6.30)
When we solicited your nominations for our prestigous burrito judge, we also asked that the nominees (and there were a lot of them!) divulge their top three SF burrito spots. We took these lists and compiled them for your reading pleasure. Best burritos in SF? Agree or agree to disagree.
Gordo Taqueria, 1239 9th Ave., (415) 566-6011
Papalote, 3409 24th St., (415) 970-8815
El Castillito, 136 Church St., (415) 621-3428
I suppose we would be remiss as food journalists if we didn't weigh in on the Jonathan Gold burrito throwdown. I know he's offering up some bait, and I will knowingly take it. In his blog yesterday he wrote:
"Bay Area residents tend to have peculiar ideas about burritos, which they regard as monstrous things wrapped in tinfoil, and filled with what would seem to be the contents of an entire margarita-mill dinner, including grilled meat, rice, beans, guacamole, tomatoes, salsa, sour cream, orange cheese, and probably a lot of other things that neither God nor man ever intended to see the inside of a tortilla, much less the soggy steamed pup-tents that are but mandatory up north."