This ain’t your granny’s donkey!!! 

Recently I went to a relatively new Mexican establishment located in downtown Berkeley, aka College Bozo Central. The lurid tales of men riding donkeys to obtain free provisions of quesadillas drove me to see for myself:


“I hear that if you ride the burro up front you get a free quesadilla.”


Granted, this ‘review’ may have been written by somebody who works across the street from El Burro Picante and he just wants to see grown men acting like dickheads, but I had to see if anyone actually did this so I sat by the window and waited:


But nobody rode except for a couple of kids with lackluster parents. Damn.

Anyway, I’m getting way ahead of myself! We came here to feed, and feed we must. My body was speaking to me, and I answered:

RaimondiFatherTime (1)


I scoped the menu for the dumbest gimmick things I could order, and the ‘Donkey’ burrito sounded pretty tight:


It is basically just a big ass burrito, which is exactly what my heart was yearning for. I also have to give them some ‘props’ for representing the SO-CAL STYLE. They are seldom seen in the wild because most men, women, and children cannot usually stand the onslaught of grease. It’s just fries, cheese and meat for fuck’s sake. I’m pretty sure they feed ducks SO-CAL STYLE burritos to produce foie gras.

I was conflicted between the desire for sheer grease and sheer size, and after much inner conflict, the size won out. What can I say, a big boy like me needs some girth. So I ordered a Donkey burrito, and another item that is not on their printed menu, the ‘Burn Your Ass’ Fries. Apparently they are fries covered with jalapenos and very spicy buffalo wing sauce. It actually sounded pretty unappealing, but when one boasts of serving a good ass-burning my little manhole squirms in anticipation like a true masochist and I have no choice.

They assemble the burritos Chipotle-style, asking you what you want at every stage of ingredient addition. I ramble the usual “Pinto, yes, yes, yes, carnitas, spicy blah blah blah” and my burrito is go-time.



Don’t be shy server boy!

My burrito ended up indeed being pretty fucking fat. Now, I’ve never had a child before so I’ve never experienced the gamut of emotions that a parent goes through, but tell me this doesn’t at least pluck a couple heart strings and I will call you a damn liar:


He went from crawling to standing! Ahhhhhh

But then I smothered my child:


Cry all you want, I can’t hear your screams through the salsa. 

The burrito was very tasty actually for being born in Berkeley, a land of little burrito quality. The meat to rice ratio was good, and proper amounts of guac and creams to get the juices flowing.

Here is what the ‘Burn Your Ass’ fries looked like:


Pop Quiz. What does this dish resemble?

a. What Hooters would serve if they had a location inside of a prison.

b. What Guy Fieri packs his kids for lunch.

c. Coyote shit.

d. All of the above.

The correct answer is d of course. Seriously though, I’ve made better food than this coming home blackout wasted in the wee hours of the morning. The buffalo sauce makes the outside of the fries lose their crisp, and coupled with the pickled jalapenos,  this thing is just way too vinegary. If it came with some spicy creamy dipster sauce or something it might redeem it, but fries kinda need a good dipster, and salsa just wasn’t cutting it for these. The avocado salsa almost made these kinda good, but then again, avocado salsa makes everything good. And my asshole didn’t even get burned. I mean, seriously, they just put some regular buffalo wing sauce you get from the store on there. That stuff is probably less spicy than Tapatio, which is not even hot enough to scald a white person’s tongue. Two dicks down for this failure food.

They do have some weird artwork on the walls here though. I think this one is a picture of some dude taking a crazy hard bong toke:


I walked home, and the streets were pretty quiet, which can be quite unsettling, but thankfully my lil’ blowhole was screeching in gratitude of my feast.


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