the Intestinal Apocalypse Monthly Apparel Bazaar

Rubio's Union SquareOMR: 6.42
865 Market
cross street: 5th St.
ph. 415/957-1389
Map Visits: 2
A spot like Rubio’s is an awfully easy target. It’s in an underground food court, about a 30-second walk from an Abercrombie & Fitch shop. It looks and feels a bit too fast-foody for its own good. And it's brash enough to offer something called “Street Burritos” – these mini-slabs don’t wear big pants and say “hella” a lot, but rather, they’re billed as Rubio’s paean to lo-fi, mobile food vendors. Oh, the irony. A foil wrap’s not a given here, so if you want one, request one. Inside San Francisco Shopping Centre. Breakfast available. Closed Sunday evenings.

Will My Health Be Violated?

12/01/05Especial White Meat Chicken$5.496.42 Mustaches
We can’t honestly say this burrito sucked unequivocally, since it had the audacity to somehow earn four nine-mustache ratings. But even a well-grilled tortilla, near-seamless ingredient mix, succession of hot bites, and supremely melted cheddar couldn’t lift a burrito this soulless from the murky depths of sub-mediocrity. If you’re hunting for example 1A of Rubio’s dullard manifesto, look no further than their white-meat-for-white-people chicken, which on this visit managed to set a new standard for flavorlessness. Everything else on hand seemed incidental at best, from the zero-gravity pico de gallo and lowest-profile guacamole to the medley of maybe-brown rice and possibly-pinto beans that seemed to cry out, How in the hell did we end up here? That bizarre sauce of theirs we noted a few years back hasn’t gone away, and they apparently don’t allow anything spicy within 100 feet of their kitchen. Most tellingly, any sort of intangible attraction here was a complete pipe-dream; if burritos were spots on a color chart, Rubio’s concoction would fall...right around off-white.
11/24/03Carne Asada Baja Special$5.796.83 Mustaches
Rubio’s politely sized burrito started on the right foot with a smartly grilled tortilla, and their fabulous guacamole, pico de gallo, and unintrusive Spanish rice each earned high marks as well. Where things started to get weird was with the thousand island-like sauce at certain intervals – although it wasn’t necessarily bad, it seemed better suited to a shwarma than a burrito. Unevenly distributed sour cream, phantom cheese (ordered but not identified), and vague hints of spice baffled us further. As for the food court dining ambience, we could have been in a Cleveland suburb, for all we knew.