Cubs and Bad Burritos

Last night, Chicago Cubs fans edured yet another disappointing end to the Cubs' season with a 5-1 drubbing at the hands of the Arizona Diamondbacks. This game was the last of the first round of the playoffs of Major League Baseball. The culmination of the playoffs is the World Series, which used to be the pinnacle of American sports, but has since been knocked of its pedastal by the Super Bowl, at least in my opinion.

We joined some friends to watch the game on TV on their deck down in Wrigleyville. They live about a block north of the stadium. Here's Wrigley Field in the picture to the right. Their house is about 100 meters from the left edge of the picture (North of the Stadium), so you can't quite see it, but it's close enough to hear the boos of the fans. [For reference, you can see the Red Line train at the top of the picture, at the Addison stop].

My impression is that it's kind of cool to be a Cubs fan, mostly because they're a hard luck case (read about their rich but sad history here). The short of it is that they haven't won a World Series since 1908; 2008 will mark the 100 year anniversary of futility. Many of the residents of Wrigleyville are young professionals with roots all over the world, but they are all united in their unconditional love of the Chicago Cubs.

[For the record, I grew up (and still am) a Detroit Tigers fan, but the Cubs were always broadcast on WGN (with Harry Carey), the Chicago superstation, which we got on cable in Michigan, so I always pulled for the Cubbies when we couldn't watch the Tigers.]

Regardless of the outcome, we had a good time watching the game on their deck, and being part of the downtrodden atmosphere that is fostered by Cubs baseball.

The brings me to part two of the night, which would break my heart more than any baseball game could ever have done. As usual, I had a craving for a burrito. Several people recommended El Burrito Mexicano (see some reviews here; maybe these folks caught Mexicano on a good day), a little joint just east of the tracks on Addison. Burritos are probably THE only food I consider myself anything of an expert in, so I'm always keen to sample something new (see my forthcoming Midwest Burrito Review).

It had the makings of a fine establishment: white, brightly-lit, mostly undecorated greasy walls, no air-conditioning, drunk baseball fans lined-up out the door, and 4 guys working their tails off behind the counter. Definitely my kind of place. In great anticipation, I ordered a pork burrito with sour cream and a pork taco with sour cream for Keren.

I would soon realize the error of my initial assessment on the first bite: the tortilla was dry and bland, and sat in my mouth like soggy cardboard. As I gnawed through it, I reached the iceberg lettuce garnish, whose flavorlessness could only be outdone by the hot, dimsal filling that could only have been the ground pork and bean-like vegetables. Because there are people starving in the world, I finished this abomination in great despair. I later expressed my displeasure to Keren in broken Hebrew (ze lo tayim. ani lo ohev ha'burrito ha'ze ha'charrahee.) I went to bed that night with a stomachache, not from undercooked meat, but from a broken heart.

I'm always ready to give a place a second chance. So many positive recommendations from so many people. Maybe I didn't ask for enough toppings. They must have hot sauce, beans, cheese, and jalapenos somewhere - many of these things are standard at most places. Maybe it was a Cubs game so they didn't have time to give their burritos enough love. I need you now more than ever Big Ten Burrito! It will be a long healing process, but someday, I will give El Burrito Mexicano a second chance.