2187 Missioncross street: 18th St.
ph. 415/522-0845
Map Visits: 2
Self-proclaimed Bay Area “legend” El Balazo spruced up the formerly dismal New Mission Cafeteria space and opened for business in fall 2008. It’s a high-ceiling’d room with plenty of afternoon sun and a widely varied menu, and based on our last visit, the burritos aren’t even fit for a starving dog. Breakfast allegedly available all day. Credit cards accepted.
Shrug: meat (7); tortilla (6); rice (6); vegetables (6)
Clang: beans (5); ingredient mix (5); spiciness (4); temperature (4); sauciness (2); cheese (1)
Intangibility bonus: 0 (of 2)
So what if it was fully crash-proof and amply sized? Not to put too fine a point on it...but this burrito was atrocious. The clangs came fast and hard, beginning with the completely uncalled-for presence of sour cream, and continuing through its full sweep of unmelted Jack cheese grates and virtual saucelessness. We purposely lost track of how many cold bites to which we were cruelly subjected, while spice remained little more than a bad rumor throughout. The refried beans may have been old enough to get a drink up the street at Doc’s Clock, and the painfully partitioned ingredient mix just exposed the myriad ghastly elements that much more. The limply grilled tortilla and dry Spanish rice also drew plenty of ire from our scowling panel. Through and through, the carne asada was actually pretty alright...but there was simply no saving this decrepit effort from five-mustache skid row. More insulting than Don Rickles.
Shrug: tortilla (7)
Clang: temperature (5); cheese (3)
Intangibility bonus: 1 (of 2)
Blame El Balazo’s kitchen for the woeful temperature deficiencies and scads of unmelted cheese, but credit our bold judges panel for arse-kickin’ spice. When we requested “extra spicy,” the burritotista behind the counter gestured to the salsa bar, indicating we were welcome to bring her the saucy additive of our choice; you know we did it up right with the tomatillo and ranchero. Shame then that the burrito’s first few bites were outright cold. We couldn’t much grouse about the solid construction or burly sizing, but a feeling of overachievement hung like a cumulonimbus over our table the whole time, as if this slab deserved less than the very respectable OMR with which it ended up. Of course, the chile verde sauce enveloping the shredded pork was excellent, and other than the chilly times we slogged through at the top end, the ingredient mix turned out quite well. Two types of rice – not only the usual Spanish, but also some pale, jalapeño-studded grains – got the job done with style and aplomb, and the refried beans tasted a hell of a lot better than they looked. But rigorous intangibility was sorely lacking.
