Domestic Dispute: Round 2, The Rebuttal

Editor’s note: Justin and Amanda are my friends. Justin lives in LA, where he is a waiter/writer/cliché, but he’s from SD. In his free time he takes pictures of his poop and reads books about Hitler. Amanda is his girlfriend and she’s from Berkeley and resides in SF. Unfortunately I don’t yet know Amanda as well. One thing is certain: These two disagree about burritos, but they agree that the other is just fabulous. These two, they keep it real, folks. Enjoy.

Dear Justin,

Let’s see, where should I begin?  Perhaps with my rebuttal to your ridiculous and narrow accusations about one isolated burrito place (which, by the way, I made absolutely no claims about. I even think I warned you that it wasn’t a good place. Not even in my top 25. And I am sure we could find a burrito in San Diego even you would agree was shitty—oh wait, we did find a shitty burrito in San Diego, at your favorite place, but I’ll get to that later). 

But actually I think I will first point out that rather than talk about the merits of the San Diego burrito, you chose to liken me to a white supremacist who forces fish upon you.  Nice moves, Halpern—distract them from your lack of argument. 

Moving on, and before I get to San Francisco burritos, I would like to offer my criticisms of the San Diego burrito. And prior to your email (and the blog) I was willing to chalk our disagreement up to preference.  But when backed against a wall, I will lash back. 

Remember when you and Dan took me to what you talked up as your favorite place for a burrito?  I was ready to love it.  Up to the moment I bit in.  The first bite was nothing but tortilla.  Okay, fine, it happens.  But then when the second and third and fourth bites all consisted of nothing but hard, chewy tortilla that poked my gum with one of its sharp corners and made my eyes water.

I knew I was in trouble.  By the time I got to the filling imagine my surprise to find—french fries! 

Now, I can get down with french fries turning up in crazy places, and I was game for them in the burrito.  But please, let them be hot and perhaps cooked the same day they arrive the burrito.  They were cold hard mush (talk about cutting corners).  Which really dampened my experience of the surprisingly delicious steak and fresh avocado. 

But those two things are not exclusive to the San Diego burrito, my friend, and can’t make up for the cracker-like tortilla or the cold mushy potato.

Brief interlude to mention the way you like to eat your meat.  That is to say, cooked within an inch of turning to stone, lacking all possible evidence of moisture from a cut of animal caked with dried spices.  Just think that is relevant when we are talking about ingredient quality.

In Defense of Tin Foil and Rice: The burritos are big in San Francisco.  I usually make two meals out of one.  And for that I am so grateful for the tin foil that it has been wrapped in, like a birthday present to take me all the way to lunch the next day (french fries would not make this journey well). 

Also my hands don’t get messy.  And I can set it down on its end when I need to take a break. Or to eat the filling with chips, as I like to do.  Including the rice.  I like rice.  I think it is delicious and in my mind makes the burrito a complete meal. 

But I agree, sometimes it doesn’t belong.  And in those instances I have my favorite places that don’t serve rice (that’s right, you read correctly, no rice at a taqueria in San Francisco).  Or I request to not have it. Or I order a nice quesadilla suiza or  taco or torta or eat sushi (only if you aren’t in town though, sweetie). 

Luckily whatever my mood the fine restaurant culture of this city can offer it to me, including burritos. San Francisco burritos vary.  That you can be sure of and I would never say they were all good.

But the delicious ones have amazingly fresh ingredients that are wrapped up so neatly in a tin foil package that don’t rely on the meat to carry the whole burrito.  And you will never need to eat two (as I saw many people doing in San Diego, which really just shoots your bargain meal to shit).

OK… I love you!

Amanda