bar burrito... the one that almost did me in
I suppose I've been lucky thus far. Everyone has had a bad burrito adventure, but I've remained relatively unscathed. Until today - Bar Burrito. On Yonge, just north of Sheppard. It's big, it's clean, it's just not too good.
I should have clued in when I ordered. The fish would take 10 - 15 minutes, the steak and chicken mixes were already ready. The dog was tied up outside, I didn't want to wait, so a chicken and steak mix it would have to be.
My whole wheat tortilla went into the warmer, came out of the warmer, and the girl began slopping on random spoonfuls. My toppings came next - everything no green peppers, jalapenos are ok. Sauces good.
My next clue should have been when she wrapped the tortilla a little too hard and mushy rice and beans started showing through. She looked at it for a split second longer than she should have while deciding whether or not she should start the process over, decided not to, and plopped the monstrosity onto the grill. Great. Nice work ethic there, chick.
But I was feeling a little passive agressive. It was my first time at Bar Burrito, and I kinda knew that there would be a high possibility that I'd be blogging about it, and hey, it's the total experience that matters and not just the food itself. I grabbed my haphazardly wrapped up burrito and left expecting to return home with a pocketful of leaky burrito juice.
Up until that point, I hadn't been particularly impressed. The concept was a ripoff of another well known, established burrito joint downtown. At home, when I unwrapped my burrito, I thought the tides had turned. My meal hadn't leaked, the integrity of the tortilla was still intact, and minimal amounts of rice and beans had fallen out. Good sign.
Two bites in, I changed my mind again. Suddenly, my tongue was going to swell up in my mouth and death was imminently possible. I can take a lot of spice, but this was ridiculous. Maybe I had been slightly over ambitious when I asked her for hot sauce, but then again, who would have expected that they slice their jalapenos into half inch slices. Half inch slices... more than a centimeter of jalapeno in one bite. What the hell was the lazy ass dude with a knife thinking? Maybe I should go after them for attempted murder.
Things never got better beyond that point. The steak and the chicken were virtually indistinguishable from each other. Both were tough and tasted exactly the same to my pepper seared palate. And somehow, when I dissected the burrito to remove the offending jalapenos, I found three random corn kernels that didn't reappear anywhere else in my meal. Scary, but interesting... my Bar Burrito experience ended there.
I had been curious about this place for a while. Some people had raved about it, saying that they were going for twice-weekly burrito fixes. I have absolutely no idea what they were thinking - Burrito Boyz of the north, this is definitely not.