Tacos of the Damned
Posted September 17th, 2008 by Tristan-Beedon
So this is a column for drunkards.
But not a column about drinking. No, there will be no bar reccomendations or drink recipes here. This is about the other times, about those magical, yet sadly non-alcoholic hours between two and six in the morning, when the booze stops flowing and the club trash crawl back to the suburbs, when the doors are shuttered and the lights go out.
This is life Beyond Last Call.
So it seems only appropriate that I would start our journey with one of the most recognizable and universally revered palaces of late night consumption, that tiny beacon of hope on the long deserted shores of the Mission…
EL FAROLITO
Oh yes… And let me just say, if you haven’t ever been there, or worse, never heard of it, well… I’m afraid I cannot, in good conscience, continue to speak to you until you do. It’s at 2777 Mission Street in SF. Corner of 24th. You can’t miss it. Go ahead. I’ll wait…
Ok. Now that we have that out of the way, there are plenty of reasons to go to El Farolito at any hour of the day, but it takes on a certain allure at night, particularly after a bout of heavy drinking or with ringing, cottony ears from too much loud music. Barflies of all stripes come crawling from the far corners of the city after two, and within 15 minutes, the line stretches into the street, filled with shuffling strangers united by a love of tacos.
The line moves quickly, and one is soon confronted with a dazzling array of options, three bright yellow panels of burritos, tacos, quesadillas, tortas, enchiladas, full meals, shrimp cocktails, and even menudo (But only on weekends. No tripe on tuesdays, buddy).
And I’m happy to report, from years of experience, it’s all good. Every bit. In 15 years I’ve never had a bad meal at El Farolito. Neither has anyone I know.
Now with all that, choosing should in theory be hard, but after only a few visits, everyone discovers their bias. On a personal level, it’s all about the carnitas. I’ve still never had anything at any other mexican joint that could beat it. Preferred delivery method: Tacos. Two tiny corn tortillas, piled high with juicy, greasy, artery dooming deep fried pork, the hottest salsa imaginable, cilantro and onions and a shit load of lime. Heaven. I would do terrible things for those tacos. Luckily, you won’t have to. They’re only two bucks a piece. Burritos are 4.50. Quesadillas are… you see where I’m going with this.
Add to this formula the fastest and most efficient assembly line of kitchen staff you’ll ever see, and you have the nearest to perfect late night fast food experience in our foggy little corner of the globe.
Even if you aren’t lucky enough to be in the city when you’re seized with an uncontrollable lust for dirt cheap Mexican food, El Farolito has been kind enough to provide you with a few other options: They also have locations in South SF, Oakland, Rohnert Park, and Santa Rosa. Though none of them are open as late as the one on the Mission, you can still get the same food, the same prices, and the same unfathomably quick service. What more could you ask for?
Editor’s note: The Rohnert Park and Santa Rosa stores are actually called El Favorito, owing to the fact that there was a pre-existing Mexican Restaurant in Sonoma County called El Farolito. Don’t go there. It sucks.
The great American culinary mecca...
I’ve scoured the internet for hours trying to find a hard hitting piece of American Journalism investigating the greatest of American inventions. No, not atomic weapons or downloadable pornography - I’m talking about the FOOD COURT system. Is there NO ONE with the rocks enough to uncover the modern Tweenster-American Rite of Passage that is the Food Court? Is there NO ONE with cardiovascular and hormonal fortitude to deconstruct the cultural impact of Chow Mein on the Local 147’s Sweater Folders’ Union? Jesus Christ, and here I am thinking the internet has every topic covered…
Sure you can find great Mexican restaurants with cheap eats and cold beers - but do they play both Foreigner’s “Urgent” AND Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to Be an American” back to back while you chow down? Does El Farolito cater to the big fat momma demographic - you know, 12 howling monkey children, 6 of whom want Taco Bell, 3 of whom want chinese, 2 want porkchop sandwiches, and one with his head caught in the banister? I say to you, must we go another MINUTE without a shocking tell-all exposé on Food Courtism, the slicing of working class fingers, and the disappearance of our neighborhood alley cats?!?
I say MAYBE! And MAYBE we’ll just graze the FREE SAMPLES for 15 minutes until we’re full enough to go back shopping for our edible thongs and our Tae Bo Workout Kits dammit. God knows 6 bucks only goes so far.