This may be the raciest post I ever write. Some of you may argue that my San Francisco fling/treat was lite porn. Thing is, it's generally looked down upon to order a Naked Burrito. It's explicitly a salad. Not a legit burrito-hound's meal. How could a medley of components ever stand up to the burritos that are formally inspected on this blog? I wondered, too, as I thoughtfully scooped up a dollop of thickset guacamole caught in a romaine leaf, embracing a trickle of sour cream and two lush black beans.
Should I go back to Zara and snag those $10 trousers from the clearance rack?
That was easy. And so was it to navigate this burrito-centric plain free from the cumbersome tortilla wheel. I have no issues with knocking back a burrito whole, but I just wasn't up to some carb-loading. Knowing that El Fuego is one of the better Cali-style members of Philly's Burrito Society, I landed there for my fix. Their bowls cost the same as their burritos, with no upcharge like some places have. You're taking my tortilla away and you want me to pay extra? Is it because I'm violating your livelihood? Love you. Another plus is that the veggie burrito gets a free hit of guacamole, which is $1.50 for you flesh-goers.
Was it steady? I didn't even miss those 10 inches. The feast is just as furious with healthy amounts of rice and beans, strips of tasty cactus, onions, and peppers, and a super smashing of salsa, cheese, sour cream, and guac. Will I take it off again? Maybe so, but I do want you to respect me.
El Fuego, 723 Walnut (new location coming soon to Rittenhouse)