Why Did I Eat This? Wawa's Pulled Pork Burrito

This is probably the least appetizing picture of Mexican food I have ever seen.

Most people or places can't be everything to everyone, but Wawa will certainly never stop trying. The latest in their attempt to leverage trends is the burrito, whose launch happened right around the time of the E.coli outbreak at Chipotle. Coincedence? Perhaps, but I'll leave that to the 9/11 truthers and other people who wear tin foil hats. I am merely here to discuss the successes and failures of mass produced foodstuffs and whether you should give them a try. Is the Wawa burrito a success? Let's analyze a few key performance indicators to make the decision:

Heft: Wawa's value proposition, like the rest of the fast food world, wants to kill you. An abundance of food for little money makes everyone happy, including me. Whether that food is wholesome is another story. Once assembled, Wawa's burrito weighs in at over a pound, which isn't bad for five bucks. Grade: A-

Tortilla: The tortilla itself is passable, but Wawa uses the same industrial grade toaster they use for hoagies to warm up the assembled burrito. Mine was left in the dry heat of this contraption too long, leaving my tortilla as brittle as stale matzo. Grade: B-

Rice: As great of a cook that my mother was (and still is), her rice skills sucked. Rice was an afterthought after beans and green chile, and to this day, I still question its presence in a burrito. Wawa's rice was reminiscent of my mom's, a watery mess of bland overcooked mush. Grade: C

Beans: Beans are easy to fuck up, unless said beans are from a can. Like Wawa's. Grade: B+

Pulled Pork: I had the utmost confidence that this would be the worst part of the burrito. Wawa's meats are of the boil-in-bag variety. Surprisingly, despite the pork being underseasoned, it had a excellent texture and it was hard to tell whether it actually came from a boil-in-bag. Grade: A-

Overall Grade: B.

I'm just as surprised as you are, though I'll probably stick to hoagies moving forward. Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

More like AngASS SnackCRAP.  Surely I am neither the first nor the last to refer to this Andy Garcia's unfortunate twin of a snack as such.  Following a gameful but foodless visit to Charles Edward Cheese, there was a hunger inside me that could only be satisfied by drive-thru eats.  Unfortunately, there aren't many options along the I-276 and 309 exits (not that we looked all that hard), so we had to settle for McDonald's.  Trying not to be a total fatass, I opted for an Angus Snackwrap.  And you know what?  Fuck McDonald's, especially off-hours McDonald's.  What you see above must have been under the heat lamp since noon, onions, pickles, and all.  The half-patty was about as appetizing as a nerf football that had spent some time with a slobbery dog, and the ketchup tasted like pesticide.  To make matters worse, I order an M&M McFlurry, quite possibly the worst combination of candy and ice cream ever conceived.  If you're in the mood for a snack, order anything but this disaster.  Please. Buen provecho.

The Worst Shit I Ate All Year

This year marked the introduction of "Why Did I Eat This?" on Fidel Gastro, a low-brow culinary oddyssey of bridging the gap between the food you see in the commercial and what it really looks like when the wrapper comes off, or sometimes just letting hunger get the best of me with no marketing involved.  Behold, another not-very-well-thought-out list of the terrible excuses for food in 2009.

10. Taco Bell's Blackjack Taco: As the unofficial spokesfood for the Phillies' 2nd World Series bid, the photoshopped images were pure comedy, but the actual taste of this thing was more miserable than the entire white sneakered population of gents mourning a loss to goddamned Yankees.
9. Big Ben Burger at Union Jack's: Amazing wings, terrible burger.  I guess you can't be good at everything (Michael Phelps is a great swimmer, but he sucks at not getting busted for smoking pot).
8. Flavia Coffee from my office pantry: Is it that difficult to make single serving coffee not taste like burnt water?  And is a carton of half-and-half really that much more than a squirt bottle of non-dairy creamer?
7. Wawa cheesesteak: Duh.
6. Baja Fresh burritos: We really tried to like these.  Even if you give them odds against the likes of Chipotle and Qdoba, they still can't get past "sucks only a little" status, which makes them a waste of money.
5. Dunkin' Donuts Waffle Breakfast Sandwich: A poor excuse for a McGriddle with waffle marks.
4. Pizza Hut Tuscani Pasta: You're better off making a box of Kraft macaroni & cheese.  Hell, you're better off just opening the packet of cheese powder and dumping it into a glass of water.
3. Herr's Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor Potato Chips: I will forever feel stupid for falling victim to these.
2. Buffalo chicken cheesesteak from Cosimo's Pizza: Last time I checked, hot sauce wasn't supposed to taste sweet.
1. Wendy's Asian Chicken Bites: A high fructose corn syrup-based sauce sloppily glopped over boneless breaded chicken that was obviously fried in grease weeks overdue for a change almost ruined fried chicken for me.

There were two things I couldn't manage to get to that would both be shoo-ins for this list, but you'll just have to wait and see what 2010 brings (aside from another 15-20 lbs on my frame).  Here's to another great year of regrettable eating.  Buen provecho.

'Twas the Hour Before Lunchtime (An Ode to Chipotle)

An old buddy of mine just composed this Christmas miracle.  Some time ago, we spent a month's worth of business days eating Chipotle burritos (thanks, Hank) :

" 'Twas the hour before lunchtime
And all through the city
Chipotles were starting
To steam rice...not too sticky
The foil was all stacked
By tortillas with care
With the knowing that customers
Would soon be there...

Why Did I Eat This?

Another relapse with Taco Bell. I needed a fix after finally getting my PA drivers license (it took months to do so, but the story is real boring and makes me look lazy, so forget I even mentioned it). This time I fell victim to a bunch of sweaty groomsmen and a sockeye salmon colored shell, both of which elevated my expectations regarding the heat factor. And since the portion control section of my brain shuts off under such duress, I ordered the Big Box meal, which comes with a Volcano taco, a regular taco, a Volcano burrito, and cinnamon twists.

Unfortunately, the Volcano offerings didn't really erupt with flavor. The mayonnaise that T-Bell tries to pass off as cheese sauce zeroes out any potential heat. There were other eruptions, but we're talking food here, so I'll spare you the details. Buen provecho.

Chifauxtle

If imitation is the highest form of flattery, then El Fuego must really want to impress Chipotle. Then again, maybe they just want to capitalize on the silent-but-deadly cash cow that is the burrito boom, which, by all accounts, is alive and well in Philadelphia (we took the detour to El Fuego because the Qdoba line was out the door). There were a few missteps, but the next time D-Tron says, "You're coming with me to get burritos. Pick a place," I'll probably pick El Fuego.

Decorated and set up almost exactly like Chipotle, El Fuego has the same spacious and minimalist feel without the "hurry up and eat so others can sit down" vibe. I probably could have stayed there all afternoon (they serve beers, so I may have to make this happen one day). Going down the burrito assembly line, you have your usual suspects: grilled peppers and onions, grilled chicken, grilled beef, stewed beef, chorizo (I suppose they have to separate themselves somehow), and hot, medium, and mild salsa offerings. I went with the chorizo and immerdiately regretted it. I have a very specific idea of chorizo in my head and it's not the kind that looks and tastes like Hillshire Farm smoked sausage. Same foil, same basket, same price (same rice!), but when I peeled back said foil, the damn thing was cold, and the tortilla was brittle. The flavor was as you'd expect from the other guys (a very good thing), but eating a burrito is no fun if it falls apart on its way to your mouth. I'm hoping the next time will yield much better results. Until then, I'm going to tuck into the burrito lethargy that is par for the course with such a huge lunch. Buen provecho.

El Fuego is located at 2104 Chestnut St. and also at 723 Walnut St. I got way too much much food for $7.50. The tap water was free. And yes, that's a crappy picture.

Why Did I Eat This?

I bade farewell to Taco Bell in August of 2008. Today, I fell off the wagon like a toothless meth addict (pictured above?). I guess I'm still chasing that first bite. The #1 combo, a beef burrito supreme, a crunchy taco supreme, and a large soda was nothing but a burn bag, and yet another example of my powerlessness against fast food. Buen provecho.

Yesterday's Qdoba

Chicken queso burrito, no cheese, no sour cream, to go. Followed by coffee straight out the French (freedom) press. Issues of a personal nature ensued.

Today's Qdoba

Queso burrito with pork, corn salsa, hot salsa, pico de gallo. It may well have been a Top 25 burrito.

D-tron sez, "Don't put my face on the internets."

I say, "Shut up and eat your burrito. Would you hand me a napkin?"

Fist fighting ensues.*


*Actual fist fighting may not have occurred.

I Sure Do Love a Good Bender

The amazingness that was last week (after pretty much the best weekend of my life):

Monday: A ticket to the World Series. Like a hypoxic mountaineer just steps from the summit of Everest, I deluded myself into the notion that the game would go on. Prior to the cats and dogs, however, I finally had the Schmitter, which I've been meaning to try since I heard some jerk talk about it during the cleanse. It sets itself apart from the ubiquitous cheesesteak by adding fried tomato, salami, and russian dressing, and to rationalize the gluttony, it's served on a kaiser roll. Sadly, my high expectations were met with disappointment, more than likely because it was a windy 40 degrees at the stadium, so the whole thing was cold after the first bite. I refuse to give up, though, and thankfully, the establishment that created the Schmitter just so happens to be in my neighborhood.

Wednesday: After unloading my ticket to a neurotic Indian, Mrs. Gastro and I joined the Gastro-in-laws for cheesesteaks from Delassandro's (my new 2nd favorite cheesesteak) and cheese fries from Chubby's (near and far, nothing compares to Pat's cheese fries, but these are in the ballpark). Unlike Pat's and Geno's, the steak is of the chopped variety, and there's a pile of it three feet high on the grill at any given time of day, so even if you call it in, they don't make it until you show up. Not exactly cooked to order. I think the beef could have used a little more salt, but I numbed my tongue with cherry peppers to cope with this. After dinner, the fightin' Phils won the World Series, which meant a stroll down Manayunk's Main Street, and more whiskey and colas than necessary, partly because of this, but primarily because I turned 30.

Thursday: Visit number four to Qdoba (please don't remind me that I hated the first visit. I know), which I've dubbed the pork burrito visit (and every fourth time from here on out, I will get pork). The assembly line put double of everything on it, and the result was a two pound behemoth that I probably shouldn't have finished. Then again, I probably shouldn't have drank my face off the night before.

Friday: A day off from work and a Wawa hoagie. If you don't know, I feel sorry for you. In the evening, a novelty costume and too much Red Bull. It usually doesn't work, but this time I was screaming at everyone I was with and laughing like a stupid banshee. My apologies to all who were with me.

Saturday: Just like the man upstairs, I saw that it was all good, so I finally got some rest. And some Chinese take-out.

Bender complete. Buen Provecho.

Forged in the Flames of Cheese Sauce

I think every burrito deserves a second chance, especially when the restaurant queue makes its way out the door. After Qdoba served me a burrito both soggy and dry (in all the wrong places), I lowered my expectations and joined D-tron for another go, this time ordering one of their signature burritos, the Chicken Queso. Professor D opted for the Vegetarian Gumbo.

With long lines at the outset, you're subject to table-lurking. Fortunately for me, D-tron scored us a seat while my receipt printed, most likely by giving someone his signature "ice grill."

So here we were, me tearing the burrito foil back, and he already slurping what appeared to be a delicious bowl of soup and rice. The Chicken Queso burrito is made proprietary by a ladle of cheese sauce (canned or otherwise, cheese sauce is like a warm blanket on a cold day. Sadly, if you dipped yourself in cheese sauce to stay warm, once it congealed, you'd be pretty cold, plus you'd look like a real dumbass). Too bad the ladle was more of a tablespoon, and I couldn't really taste it among the hunk of rice and assorted spoofuls of beans, sour cream, chicken, and salsa. Overall, nothing new and innovative. Then again, with my expectations hovering near "this will be a shitty lunch but what the hell," getting a Chipotle replica turned out to be exactly what I wanted. Admit it, if you couldn't get Pat's for some reason, you'd make your way over to Geno's. Assembly line burritos are just plain good (if you can manage to properly cook the rice), whether they start with a Q, a C, or anything in between. And how was the gumbo? Well, you'll have to ask D-tron, but watch out for the "ice grill." Buen provecho.

Food Cart Take Two

Continuing my "Cart for a Day" themed Thursday, the falafel couple outside the 7-11 on 15th and JFK makes a delicious, albeit messy, falafel burrito (I call it a burrito because the pita is thin like a tortilla). Their falafel balls are not of the crunchy on the outside and dry on the inside variety. They have more of an all around chewy consistency, like a savory munchkin, or a potato croquette from Sal's in Carroll Gardens (Google it and order a few. They're the shit). The hummus is silky smooth, and the vegetables are fresh (unlike a certain food truck I've written about in the past). The only complaint is that it's not really lunch-size, but it's too big to be a snack. At $3.50, it should quell the hunger, no? And I'd overdo it with two, not to mention the fact that I'd be spending seven bucks on a meal from a cart. These things will have to be ironed out in the future, as I'm certain that I will return. Oh yeah, and these guys didn't dump ketchup all over my lunch, like that fucker from this morning. Buen provecho.

Qdo(n't)ba

Singular reader, I believe you are well versed on my little Chipotle problem. Not having one within lunching radius, I resort to Qdoba, whose similar burrito stylings I sampled today. The verdict in question form:

Would it kill you to keep an eye on the rice? Every single bite was a soggy and mushy mess. I could swear that it was minute rice, and if I paid a bum $5 to dig through the trash at the end of the day, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a surfeit of empty red boxes intermingled with the avocado skins.

The pork? An arid desert of flavorless flesh. It's doubtful that a grain of salt even made it on the loin.

The salsa? The corn offering's corn component was undercooked, and the spicy offering tasted more like ketchup.

Three strikes, Qdoba, and you're out (but I will likely go there again tomorrow to try out the chicken burrito and cross my fingers that the rice won't be a disaster). Buen Provecho.

McBurrito

Chipotle
Location: As many as Starbucks
Burrito and a soda: $10



I spent a year refusing to walk into Chipotle. The word alone is nails on a chalkboard, and I can't stand the smokiness of the ubiquitous pepper with the same moniker. But it was neither the name nor the flavor that turned me off. It was a matter of pride. No self respecting Mexican who grew up eating rice and beans should spend money eating a burrito from a fast food chain owned by McDonald's. And even after Chipotle had splintered off from McDonald's, I held fast to my convictions. But then the brown bags were everywhere, and everyone in the employee lounge held my childhood neatly wrapped in foil and tissue paper. It was the silent attack of the burritos. I watched sour cream ooze from their core. I watched the burritos' kaleidoscope change with each bite, and worst of all, I witnessed the voraciousness of each individual as they chewed and swallowed without breathing.

I crumbled. The next day, I walked to the nearest Chipotle. I had them prepare me a burrito with shredded pork, rice, pinto beans, corn salsa, cheese, and sour cream. I found a corner in the already bustling dining room and unwrapped the enemy, the fast food chain burrito. And wouldn't you know, it was amazing. After that first taste, I was there every weekday for a month. The pork was moist and perfectly seasoned, the rice was buttery, and the salsa was not runny. The amalgam of burrito guts harmonized better than Boyz II Men circa 1991. More importantly, the tortilla's ability to stand up to the ingredients was second to none. There's nothing worse than having to fork up the remains of a leaky burrito.

So do yourself a favor and put the "I can" in Mexican. Make your way to the nearest Chipotle and have a burrito. Hell, do what I did and have a burrito for the next 30 days. But be careful, I found out on chipotlefan.com that these things are 1,300 calories a pop. But hey, if you're gonna be a bear, be a grizzly. Buen provecho.