the Intestinal Apocalypse Monthly Apparel Bazaar

Intestinal Apocalypse Monthly, March 2006back to archive

Read Gelf Magazine's article on and ask yourself whether we used "fulcrum" in the correct context in the quote at the end of the second paragraph.

Bite. Chew. Mull. recaps our first single-digit burrito month in quite some time. What this means to you: Less words to read this time around in Bite. Chew. Mull.

He's got cilantro in his teeth. He's always spilling horchata on his shirt. And he could use a belt. What's so dear about Beano, anyway? Perhaps there's a hint in Dear Beano.

Where is the obstinance, people? Obstinate User Commentary pines for some of that old-time angst.

This Month in Weird Things Found in Burritos pretty much speaks for itself.

(epilogue) is the part of every month's publication that's basically a glorified footnote.

Pull up a food.

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Our Slab Army Rassles Another Nine Foiled Varmints

Kind of a light month for us, February. We only had 28 days to work with, so our slabometer was bound to dip a bit. Still, four burrito dens made Burritoeater debuts: La Carreta and Green Chile Kitchen & Market each earned instant entry into our sub-seven-mustache Clang Club; El Miramar just missed improbably cracking our eight-mustache barrier; and, Taco Del Mar proved that it's possible to slap together a mighty fine burrito even while saddled with a logo built around a Fu Manchu’d, sombrero-wearing fish.

La Fonda and El Castillito also ratcheted up hearty numbers, while Café Venue whiffed so hard (twice in one morning, no less), we're still feeling the breeze their swing-throughs generated. And there's no forgetting how La Alteña's new "Kill 'Em with Chicken" m.o. totally steamhammered us into submission one Excelsior evening.

EL MIRAMAR (South of Market), 2/2/06, Super Carne Asada: 7.92 Mustaches
We tracked down a tasty, foiled lunch right next to Dong’s (formerly Wong’s) Grill. Who knew?

LA CARRETA TAQ. (Lower Haight), 2/6/06, Super Pollo en Salsa Roja: 6.67 Mustaches
Next time, it’s sausages for us at Rosamunde a few doors down.

GREEN CHILE KITCHEN & MARKET (Western Addition), 2/9/06, Super Beef: 6.83 Mustaches
File under: punchless. Try their rad green chile stew instead.

TAQ. LA ALTEÑA (Excelsior), 2/11/06, Super Chicken: 7.50 Mustaches
Suggestion to the big slabmaker-fella behind La Alteña’s counter: consider downsizing from that XXXL meat-scooper in your right hand.

CAFÉ VENUE (Financial District), 2/16/06, Breakfast (Chicken): 5.54 Mustaches
The opener in Café Venue’s morning twin-bill lagged, and it lagged real hard.

CAFÉ VENUE (Financial District), 2/16/06, Breakfast (Ham): 6.45 Mustaches
Again with the breakfast burrito disappointment. Argh.

LA FONDA (Inner Sunset), 2/20/06, Super Broiled Steak: 8.17 Mustaches
Delicious, in-slab adhesion. Foreigner. Marvelous steak. Robert Palmer. One solitary pea. Thompson Twins. You get the picture.

TACO DEL MAR (2nd St.) (South of Market), 2/23/06, Super Pork Molé: 8.33 Mustaches
Surprisingly swashbuckling burritowork from a multinational chain that boasts a staggering 23 locations in British Columbia alone.

TAQ. EL CASTILLITO (Civic Center / Tenderloin), 2/27/06, Super Pollo Asado: 8.08 Mustaches
Eight-mustache underperformance in the burritoplace? It's rare, but it happens.

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Tastes Filling, Less Great

Our beloved (by someone, maybe) taqueria sage told us that if we led his monthly feature with another reference to his bygone days as a Naugles shift manager, he'd fill our shoes with hot sesos. We got the message real quick.

But if you'd like a "piece" of him, by all means, have at it:

Dear Beano: I hear Papalote is moving into the space formerly tainted by Tango 20! on Fulton St.
Dear Apocalypse reader: Yes, apparently it's a go - the Papalote brass hopes to have their second shop open real soon. And if the new spot's burritowork is even as remotely on-point as it's always been at their Mission location, it's all over in the Western Addition, no contest.

Dear Beano: Do you ever just want a salad?
Dear Nick: You don't mean a "burrito bowl," do you? Those are silly.

Dear Beano: You're out there in the thick of it on a weekly basis. Any thoughts on this whole steroids mess?
Dear Apocalypse reader: It almost goes without saying that there are certain taquerias around town that employ less-than-organic methods when augmenting the size of their slabs. Now, this isn't a witch hunt, and we're not out to name names, drop trousers, write a tell-all, and plant ourselves on the moral high road. But is injecting an already handsomely stuffed tortilla with some sort of "supplement" only a rhinoceros could withstand in the long run really the right thing to do? I mean, whatever happened to mixing some arthritis rubbing balm in with the beans, spiking a cold pint of delicious horchata with a teaspoon of flaxseed oil, and calling it a night?

Dear Beano: Funny story about a real intestinal apocalypse. So, I was in the hospital over Christmas. I had emergency surgery - twice. First, they thought it was appendicitis. That didn't work, so they went back in the next day and removed about eight inches of my intestines. I had "Non-Meckle's Diverticulum," which is fatal in about 25-50% of all cases when it goes bad. I lived.
Dear Apocalypse reader: Dude.

Dear Beano: One of the articles I'm reading for my philosophy class on Wittgenstein is "I Want You to Bring Me a Slab: Remarks on the Opening Sections of the Philosophical Investigations." In the course of explaining language acquisition and use, Wittgenstein describes a scenario in which a builder and his apprentice only communicate using four simple words/commands. One of them is "slab."
Dear Apocalypse reader: You sound intelligent. As for "slab," its flexibility is not unlike Uri Geller's groundbreaking work with spoons, decades ago. How many words can stunt-double for both "burrito" and "marble block," and not lose anything in the translation? What a word.

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Here's a Dial-Up Account, E-mail Someone Who Cares

Got a beef with our opinion of your favorite place?

Or are you too chicken to let us know?

Go ahead, pork out:

But leave the sesos out of it.

(Comments may be edited for spelling, clarity, and/or brevity at our discretion.)

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"At Mariachi's, in the upper right-hand corner of the menu is a riceless, melange-o'-fish burrito. Spicy, chunky, juicy, and a stimulating break from the super carne asada standby. Hint: Let the person behind you order first if the younger burrito-ista is ready to help you - she's chintzy. The older burrito-ista is the true maestra."

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"I was walking down Haight with my husband the other night when it started to rain. We were hungry and didn't really have a plan (or an umbrella), so we ducked into Mythic Pizza for slices. We started eating at a table next to the window, and a minute later the lightning, thunder, and hail kicked in. I got transfixed by the sky's show for a few minutes, but I couldn't help but think how much better a fiery Cuco's burrito would have tasted at that moment, precipitation be damned."

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"All I know is I love the shrimp burritos at High Tech Burrito in Mill Valley."

(All we know is you're out of your tree - not to mention our area of jurisdiction. But we hear Avatar’s Punjabi Burritos over there are, in the trusted words of one associate, "astonishly good." -Ed.)

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Pennies, Mice, the Usual

A Gillette, Wyo. retailer made headlines earlier this month by offering a one-cent discount on frozen burritos, with the condition that the instant refund would be found inside the burrito itself.

Then a few days later, in Traverse City, Mich., a young man - clearly inspired by last year's sordid Wendy's chili scam - dumped snake food into his burrito supreme, then cried wolf to Taco Bell brass. His refund? A $100,000 bail bond. Nice work, jackass.

They're putting change and rodents in slabs all across the nation, and people think America's inner cities are the real danger spots? Come on. The Tenderloin's got nothing on either northwest Michigan or the high plains.

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The Apocalypse will always be a Quinn Martin production. Because the Mighty Quinn would have wanted it that way.

Please forward freely, yet responsibly.

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Yours, in delicious horchata,