Dial-A-Burrito: 976-SLABJuly 2005
Initial reactions from Intestinal Apocalypse loyalists, the Bay Area blogeratti, and loved ones with mustaches have been overwhelmingly positive, and the early line is in: Burritoeater.com is not lame, not in the least. Significant thanks to everyone who’s helped get the Burritoeater word out. As a result, our mustache-filthy corner of the Web was the subject of a thread on wildly popular food chatterbox Chowhound, and we also got a quick mention on MSNBC that you’ll have to scroll for ten minutes to find. Last week culminated with the Chronicle Sunday Datebook’s editor-honcho trumpeting our site on SFGate’s Culture Blog, and hoo-boy, didn’t the squadron of Burritoeater servers nearly overheat when that one came rumbling down the cyberpipe.
To our surprise, a number of people are calling Burritoeater a blog - although granted, that’s a much sexier term in the summer of ’05 than “sortable database aggregation.”
And if you’re one of those people who enjoys reading, but gets turned off by all the tiresome page-turning that books require, there’s an all-new Apocalypse ripe for the picking.
To our surprise, a number of people are calling Burritoeater a blog - although granted, that’s a much sexier term in the summer of ’05 than “sortable database aggregation.”
And if you’re one of those people who enjoys reading, but gets turned off by all the tiresome page-turning that books require, there’s an all-new Apocalypse ripe for the picking.
Inaugural SpielJune 2005
It was inevitable. Some nutcase would eventually create a comprehensive online directory of San Francisco taquerias.
It would feature a wealth of information on over 150 local (SF only) burrito shops and trucks.
Its listings would be sortable by name, neighborhood, how it had fared at the hands of a ruthless 12-category rating system, and the number of times it had undergone this terrible onslaught of scrutiny.
Each taqueria would have its own page on the site, complete with an original, subjective description. It would note any pertinent issues regarding its appearance and clientele (if any), whether it’s take-out only, whether their menu features breakfast items, whether they’re open late (or real late), whether there’s a gumball machine on the premises, and whether there’s some dude behind the counter making a racket with a meat cleaver on a giant cutting board.
These pages would also include a street address, telephone number, pricing information, and photograph for each taqueria, as well as links to both a Google map and the SF Department of Public Health’s page for the burritoeatery in question.
Furthermore, these pages would include detailed reviews of burritos from each taqueria. Whether slaggard, superlative, or merely shoulder-shrugging, they would always be honest and engaging. They would also include the word “slab” a lot.
There would even be a regularly published newsletter, the Intestinal Apocalypse Monthly, complete with a section devoted solely to answering readers’ questions.
Welcome to Burritoeater.com. It not only serves every one of these functions, it even employs a bushy mustache for a logo.
It would feature a wealth of information on over 150 local (SF only) burrito shops and trucks.
Its listings would be sortable by name, neighborhood, how it had fared at the hands of a ruthless 12-category rating system, and the number of times it had undergone this terrible onslaught of scrutiny.
Each taqueria would have its own page on the site, complete with an original, subjective description. It would note any pertinent issues regarding its appearance and clientele (if any), whether it’s take-out only, whether their menu features breakfast items, whether they’re open late (or real late), whether there’s a gumball machine on the premises, and whether there’s some dude behind the counter making a racket with a meat cleaver on a giant cutting board.
These pages would also include a street address, telephone number, pricing information, and photograph for each taqueria, as well as links to both a Google map and the SF Department of Public Health’s page for the burritoeatery in question.
Furthermore, these pages would include detailed reviews of burritos from each taqueria. Whether slaggard, superlative, or merely shoulder-shrugging, they would always be honest and engaging. They would also include the word “slab” a lot.
There would even be a regularly published newsletter, the Intestinal Apocalypse Monthly, complete with a section devoted solely to answering readers’ questions.
Welcome to Burritoeater.com. It not only serves every one of these functions, it even employs a bushy mustache for a logo.
