Pancho Villa

Traveller reviews for Pancho Villa (1)

• 
  To write a review sign in, register or  

  Recommend

   

  Add your experience

  Your experience “ ”

  Say more…

  Write your review

  Your review

  Tags

  Good for…

  Not good for…

  Photo Upload

  Add a photo

  Note: when you submit posts to our site (including images), you’re giving us permission to reuse your material elsewhere and also to pass it to others for use. Full website terms here.

  Post your review
• 

  Quintessential San Francisco burrito experience

  ro777 1 1 -1 recommends this, September 4, 2010

  • 

  of

  Previous image Next image Enlarge Close

  The queue spilt out the door down 16th St, giving me a chance to admire the white stucco exterior, brick archways and old-school cursive typeface of the signage. It was like lining up to see a rock band, and the patrons chatted excitedly as the waited in line. 'Get the Deluxe,' someone up ahead said. 'Or the Special if you want guacamole. I'll give you a dollar if you can eat the whole thing.'

  I was spending a few days in San Francisco and a local friend had taken me to Pancho Villa Taqueria in the Mission district. 'The best burittos in the United States,' he'd said. He was explaining the finer points of Frisco burritos as we progressed up the queue. 'You can ask for lettuce, but it's not properly part of a Mission burrito. Guacamole is OK, but you just cannot have sour cream or any kind of fancy tropical salsa.'

  'I see. No tropical salsa,' I said. 'Can I get tomato?'

  'Tomato is cut through the salsa,' he said. 'Ask for tomato and they'll look at you funny. The shame of getting your burrito-speak wrong is deep and lingering.'

  I started to worry. 'Can you order my burrito for me?'

  'Be a man,' he said.

  An army of middle-aged Mexicans worked furiously at hot-plates and dipping sauces, rolling beans and meat and rice up in grilled flour tortillas, and wrapping the steaming-hot barrels in aluminium foil. They looked serious with furrowed brows and greasy aprons. The smell was incredible and the room was noisy.

  'The secret to a great burrito is the carne asada,' said my friend over the din. 'Here they marinate the beef and rub it down with salt and spices before grilling it.'
  People sat on benches at wonky laminex tables talking and laughing and clinking beer bottles together in burrito-celebration. Every sound echoed of the hard floor and walls. Neon tubes lit the room in lab light, and occasional posters of masked Mexican wrestlers, toreadors and Latino movie stars made up the décor – more cafeteria than fine dining room.

  We got to the front of the queue, and my friend made his order in fluent Spanish – smartarse! He laughed with the wizened old Mexican lady behind the counter. 'This is Conchita,' he said to me over his shoulder. 'Este hombre es Australiano,' he said to her.

  Conchita smiled. 'Mucho gusto, encantada,' or somesuch.

  'Can I have the Special burrito please?' I asked, conscious of my accent.

  'Sí.' She smiled. 'Black beans, red beans or pinto beans?'

  'Pinto beans por favor,' I said, smug at my command of the language. What are pinto beans anyway? I wanted to ask.

  'Something to drink? Agua? Cervaza?' She gestured to the drinks fridge. I looked at the squat Mexican beer bottles shimmering in like diamantes looking frosty and delicious – Modelo Especial, Negra Modelo, Bohemia, Pacifico. I plucked a Bohemia from the line-up.

  We took our burritos and beers and sat at a wobbly table. I sank my teeth into the juicy mix of tortilla, meat, beans, rice, cheese, spicy salsa and guacamole. The flavour was incredible – subtle yet complex, piquant and sharp but still smooth and layered. The firm and perky beans dissolved as I chewed them, the meat was tart and smoky. The first mouthful was a game-changer, a moment of epiphany – outstanding!

  I was just about to say so when we were set upon by five shady men in dressed in black. Ninjas, was my first thought. But the moustaches and fancy hats didn't fit with the mental image, not to mention the guitars, trumpets and violins. The mariachi band burst into song…and I ate the USA's best burrito bopping along.

  Good for: Buritto bliss

  Not good for: Trysts and romance

  report