So I had a little time before today's showing of Mizoguchi's
The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums, but I was on the stretch of Fullerton between the red line and Ashland which has been a chow wasteland (at least during the day; dinner offers more options) since I've lived here. Then I spotted one of those Lincoln Park gringo burrito joints, the kind I described in a review elsewhere as "more lettuce, tomato, and cheese than meat and enough sour cream to spackle a house, all in a starched white tortilla... closer to a chicken wrap from a food court than to the greasy but delectable gut bombs real Mexican restaurants serve."
Well, in a competition that otherwise included Burger King and
Mr. Sub, I figured it was the best of a bad lot. At worst, I'd take one for the team. Well, if I didn't take one for the team it was only because I didn't finish the blasphemy on a plate they dished up for me. I cut my burrito in half and immediately orange grease began pouring out the tail end as if a can of Quaker State had been tipped over inside. The prefab tortilla began flaking off white, scaly pieces of itself as if it had a rare skin disease. Bite one: the sour cream and grease were congealing into an unholy alliance without even token resistance from the meat or cheese. Something was missing, I thought, as I picked rubbery pieces out of my teeth-- then it dawned on me. Flavor! That's what was missing!
I grabbed the bottle of green salsa and dashed the burrito with it-- but a second bite revealed that the salsa had been chilled to such a degree that the only flavor it had was theoretical, and the impact of the cold only accelerated the creation of new life forms in the primordial ooze of the grease and sour cream. I looked at the horrible thing I had taken two bites of and I knew there was no need to drop the rest of this tragedy, this nightmare, this offense against the cosmos into my stomach. I covered it with napkins and slipped the plate into the busboy's bin. I had just had The Worst Burrito in Chicago, but I was determined to live to warn others.
Taco and Burrito House
1548 W. Fullerton
773-665-8389