712 Irvingcross street: 8th/9th Aves.
ph. 415/681-9205
Map Visits: 7
Shrug: vegetables (7); cheese (7)
Clang: no elements clanged
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)
From its litany of exceptional moments to the smattering of shrugs it elicited, La Fonda once again demonstrated its commitment to eight-mustache credibility with this solidly bitchin’ burrito. Sized to satisfy and armed with a smartly grilled tortilla, this pork-stuffed slab weathered the unfortunate inclusion of lettuce (our ordering gaffe) and scattered pods of unmelted Jack cheese. How? Take a look at all them nine-mustache apples up there — from rad sauce occurrences and minimal construction angst to all-hot bites and one hell of a smooth ingredient mix, many good things were in the constant offing here. Burly chunks of tender, achiote-swabbed pork punctuated most every bite, and there was no questioning the intangible charm of our foiled lunch.
Shrug: rice (7); ingredient mix (7)
Clang: vegetables (4)
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)
Although La Fonda’s breakfast burrito made little impact on our rigorous 10-Mustache Scale™ in 2008, its P.M. slabwork continues to amaze. This typically strong effort relied on a hellaciously grilled tortilla, sharp adherence to fundamentals such as burstage abatement and temperature, persistently delicious salsa, and booming spice to deliver good times at our balcony table. Ms. Slabmaker Lady kindly indulged our lunch in a lengthy post-construction stint on the grill, which helped us overlook this burrito’s paucity of greenery — other than some stray grilled onion and a mere hint of guacamole, veggies seemed to be fully on leave. We appreciated the tiny chunks of roasted pineapple that accompanied the pork, which itself earned quiet raves. The ingredient mix may have cordoned off the Spanish rice a bit too much, but intangibility picked up the slack throughout. You could say we’re fonda La Fonda. (Terrible. Just awful. –Ed.)
Shrug: meat (7); vegetables (7); tortilla (6); sauciness (6)
Clang: cheese (5)
Intangibility bonus: 1 (of 2)
Resulting in the most ordinary burrito ever tossed our way by this usually on-the-money taqueria, our side trip into La Fonda’s breakfast menu left us with a pocketful of puzzlers. We enjoy a little cilantro, but was that much really necessary? Shouldn’t have some of those miniature grates of jack cheese been better melted? And did that giant great dane out front really just inadvertantly knock La Fonda’s sidewalk planter on its ass? (Yes, it did.) Outstanding refried beans certainly brought the most heat to the proceedings; in other cases, the plumb-ordinary salsa roja sent slab-wide temperatures down noticeably. The ingredient mix brought everything together harmoniously enough, but the sticky-steamed tortilla gave the roofs of our panel members' mouths fits here and there. The cubes of ham weren’t particularly notable, while the eggs with which the square-shaped pork were mixed rated better. Spice worked hard to ratchet up eight hairy ones by burrito’s end. The single-mustache intangibility bonus, however, wasn’t so impressive. Chalk it up to an off-morning behind La Fonda’s counter.
Shrug: no elements elicited shrugs
Clang: cheese (5)
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)
So many storylines to work with here. Where to begin? The wide-as-the-Mississippi side-to-side dimensions? The onion-laced tinga sauce, perhaps? The unfortunate failure to melt cheese upon the tortilla as it grilled? How about the marvelous mush of La Fonda’s refried beans? In any order, this was an excellent burrito - its one moderately fatal flaw (unmelted grates of jack) notwithstanding. We doled out nine mustaches for the grilled (by request) tortilla, which housed a host of credible veggies from a variety of sources: tomato and onion from the robust tinga sauce, cilantro and more chopped onion from the pico de gallo, and chunky guacamole from that one avocado tree down in Tulare County. Pulls of richly peppered chicken, bathed and simmered in that rad tinga sauce we’re mentioning for the third time here already, made its seasoned point every chance it got; meanwhile, Spanish rice and refried beans each wrote $8 checks to the Bank of Mustache. The mix managed to get all ingredients involved, more or less, and there was nothing short of a hot bite on hand throughout. Here’s to dunce-proof slab construction. Here’s to girth on the taqueria plate. Here’s to you, America!
Shrug: tortilla (7); meat (7); rice (7); vegetables (7); ingredient mix (7)
Clang: no elements clanged
Intangibility bonus: 2 (of 2)
La Fonda’s rich, ebony molé sauce was clearly the dominant element of this handsomely sized effort, absorbing everything in its glurgy path - from the quietly contributing Spanish rice and chicken cuts to the fully drowned veggie gang. All that sauce made for a manageably floppy slab, while a hearty slop of exceptional refried beans further increased the mush factor. We stepped out onto a nice, firm limb by conscripting a tomato tortilla for wrap duties, and it tasted like a flour tortilla hued in some sort of pale red food coloring – no harm, no foul. But its steamed introduction to the production process ensured extra some chewiness we could have done without. Cheese was all-melted, delicious, and despite a bit of clumpiness, pretty much all fun and games. Spice picked up the pace as we penetrated southward, which resulted in a slight ding on the ingredient mix rating. Chicken was grilled and tasty, but ever so slightly dry internally. But overall? Nothing here sucked, nothing at all.
