Where are you from?

San Diego, California.

Who has better burritos, SoCal or NorCal?

SoCal.

Like, what’s up with the rice and beans? Of course one could argue that it’s there to add consistency, but come on. Don’t try to mask your mediocre ingredients with filler. You’re better off going to Chipotle. Not that there’s anything wrong with Chipotle, I’m all for convenience at a reasonable price. But keep the rice and beans out of my burritos. And screw anything that’s wrapped in aluminum, gimme that smooth and lustrous yellow wax paper.

I personally prefer the classic Carne Asada Burrito from Lolita’s Taco Shop circa 2000 - 2007. Some might recognize this as Lolita’s Golden Age, right after they introduced their new flour tortilla. It’s safe to say that nothing out on the market today matches the texture, density, and complexity found in burritos wrapped and sold at participating Lolita’s Taco Shop locations across San Diego county during that time frame.

The best burritos are those that are self-aware. They’re aware of the dynamics between ingredients, where no particular ingredient overstays their welcome. That’s right, I’m lookin’ at you, sour cream. But if the tortilla is a canvas, would it not be blasphemous to pile on as many different colors possible, without direction or intent, and call it a piece of art? Does a true artist not carefully curate a palette and position colors in a way that provokes an experience for the audience? What even is a “burrito”, anyway? Where did this tortilla-wrapped concoction come from? There must be a variety of creation myths, sure. But only one thing is certain: ‘burrito’ means “little donkey”.

It is no question that the geographical debate between California burritos has existed for quite some time; long before I began to jot down my own thoughts on the matter. In fact, I’m beginning to think this argument isn’t about burritos at all; it’s about culture. For it is until we break up California into regions—Northern and Southern—that we can begin to examine different cultural practices that seem to exist within the parameters. Is it likely that cultural practices have a direct influence on burrito preference? These differences are so prevalent, that some have proposed California be broken up into two different states. According to the Wikipedia page regarding Partition and Succession in California, ‘The California State Senate voted on June 4, 1965, to divide California into two states, with the Tehachapi Mountains as the boundary.’ Since then, there have been additional propositions to divide California into 3 different states—North, Central, and South, but that makes zero sense to me. Why? Well, is there a prevalent burrito culture in Central California? Didn’t think so. Moving on, let’s discuss differences in climates. Northern California, known to have a moderate oceanic climate, generally receives higher annual rainfall amounts (at least when compared to southern portions of the state). Southern regions of California have a Mediterranean climate, with annual rainfall occurring mostly in the winter. How does this play into our burrito debate? Perhaps a more consistent sequence of warmer weather is a good enough reason to ditch the rice and beans. To some, a burrito is already enough a vice in itself; adding extra carbohydrates would be excessive. With warm weather arrives a desire to wear less clothing. If one is looking to sport a summer-bod for most of the year, why pack on the extra carbs?

It’s a bit touching, actually. To recognize that I was born in a region of the state that honors not just simplicity, but innovation. It’s a privilege to have been raised on a brand of Carne Asada burrito that honors progress. Let’s go back to the very beginning: centuries before the birth of the burrito. When Spanish conquistadors invaded (what is now) Mexico, they became obsessed with the Aztec tortilla. Records show that Hernán Cortés insisted on his men being supplied with native food, as a term of surrender. At the time, Aztec cuisine was built around the tortilla and the tamale—a precursor to the burrito, sharing the same aspect of portability. But the Spanish quickly introduced beef, chicken, cheese, and wheat (as a substitute for corn tortillas) to the Mexican diet. It wasn’t until the 1910s that the invention of the burrito began to emerge. One popular creation myth for the burrito—found in The Encyclopedia of Latino Culture—mentions Sonora in the early 20th century. Gustavo Arellano, author of Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America and renowned expert in burrito data-science circles, describes Sonora as the ‘wheat-growing region in Mexico’. He says, ‘A lot of the Spanish settlers stuck with wheat, so they made flour tortillas.’ It’s in this theory that we find Sonorans filling up flour tortillas with leftovers. And if my assumptions are correct, those leftovers were made up primarily of rice and beans. For it was this mobility that allowed for ‘Braceros’ (migrant workers in the 1940s) to carry burritos into the United States and establish them as a recognizable Southern California specialty. The Northern Californian bastardization of this initial design has failed to capture the spirit of the concept. Instead of honing in on its intention, Northern Californians decided to take the burrito at face value. The NorCal burrito doesn’t come into the picture until after a misstep in the 1970s with the Oki Dog—a tortilla (somehow) wrapping hot dogs, chili, cheddar cheese, pastrami, and grilled onions. This misstep paved the way for the overcomplicated monstrosity that plagues Northern California. ‘El Farolito’ in San Francisco introduced the ‘Mission burrito’ (named after the district the establishment itself resides in) loaded with excess ingredients. In contrast to the NorCal burrito, SoCal burritos are far less troublesome. Southern California took the burrito and engineered it to perfection. For instance, a standout institution in the San Diego burrito scene is Lolita’s Taco Shop: which, seemingly, has mastered the Carne Asada burrito, and it’s worth mentioning that it caters directly to my tastes. Crafting the burrito with minimalism and intentionality, it delivers the goods without the glut. Beef, guacamole, and salsa. That’s it; nothing less, nothing more. A careful balance, a delicate dance between three tastes, textures, and consistencies—marinated carne asada meets fresh guacamole, combined with a salsa Mexicana—all wrapped in a crispy flour tortilla. A deliberate amalgamation of ingredients bundled together in harmony. And who might understand this best? Bruce Lee, the philosopher. I’ve been told Lee is mostly known for his work as an actor and martial artist, but I’m not interested in theatrics. I am a fan, first and foremost, of what he has to say about reality, existence, and Mexican food. It was Bruce Lee who said, ‘Simplicity is the key to brilliance.’ It is unclear if this quote was in relation to burritos, or life itself, but I like to think that it relates to both. If one were to look at SoCal burritos through the lens of Bruce Lee’s philosophy, one might say that they are brilliant. And brilliance is hard to come by. Even if you drive a couple of hundred miles up north.

What have we learned here? A few things. Spanish conquistadors loved tortillas. You won’t find a decent burrito north of the Tehachapi Mountains. Bruce Lee’s career in philosophy is highly underrated. But if we took a step back to acknowledge and understand the moral of the story? We’d find, that—less is more.

Do you listen to any podcasts?

Yes.