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Elsy's MissionOMR: 7.17
2893 Mission
cross street: 25th St.
ph. 415/642-0104
Map Visits: 2
Elsy’s unceremonious facade stands in sharp contrast to its vaunted, multi-arched neighbor, La Taqueria. The Great Society-era décor was brightened up in 2005, but the humble place (a.k.a. San Vicente) still feels like it belongs in Watsonville or Visalia – in a good, real-deal kind of way. Spanish-speakers stand a better chance of getting table service here, but it’s no slight if you order at the counter. Breakfast and Salvadorian food items available. Closed Sundays.

Will My Health Be Violated?

03/24/06Super Carnitas$6.507.17 Mustaches
Oops, they forgot the guacamole. Just flat-out forgot it. And holy smokes, that was a superhero-sized amount of fried pork they shoehorned in. But in spite of these awkward moments, the San Vicente slab managed to keep it respectable. No perfect tens here to be spoken of, but the perpetual sauciness was appreciated, and hey look, no cold bites. The 16-bite burrito was a bit short, but it sported enough heft and girth to not get laughed off the playground. A lightly grilled tortilla was undercut by saucy soak-through in certain parts, which in turn exposed some imperfect – but hardly fatal - construction strategies. The just-happy-to-be-there rice neither wowed nor bummed our panel, but the East German judge wasn’t too impressed with the underwhelming contribution made by the refried beans. San Vicente’s ultramega cuts of carnitas dominated the day – while tough to initially penetrate, the pork ultimately turned out tasty, if salty. Considering the burrito’s hot temperature, it was a surprising shame its jack cheese wasn’t more consistently melted. Extensive pico de gallo provided the sole veggie content, but there was no arguing with all the manly spice. Overall, it wasn’t a graceful work – burritos aren’t San Vicente’s forte – but you could do a lot worse.
01/18/05Super Carne Asada$6.508.00 Mustaches
They certainly make them uniquely at Elsy's: girthless, and peppery as all hell. A flummoxing burrito in that, taken across the board, it wasn’t as strong as its mustache rating suggests. Sure, the inclusion of a big, spice-enhancing green pepper was a welcome diversion from the norm, and the pico de gallo ruled the school. And neither its mix nor its architecture merited any scoffing whatsoever. But the cheese was merely half-melted, and the steak – as nicely chopped as it may have been – wasn’t anything to go home and wake the neighbors over. Dispassionate dining at its most shoulder-shrugging.