Long time, no update. While I was neglecting Burritos on Clark, I let a grave error slip by. Mary wrote a review of what might have been the best burrito on Clark so far, and she totally botched the name of the restaurant. And then I fail to write any review at all. So, here is the correct info for this lovely, orange-signed place:
Sabor Michoacan
7021 N Clark St
Chicago, IL 60626
(773) 465-1122
Alrighty, then. The things that I loved:
My horchata was AMAZING, and liberally sprinkled with cinnamon. The beans were warm and cheesy. My veggie burrito had mushrooms in it, but it was not mushy or gross. The tortilla was strangely sweet and toasted, and a little thick for a Chicago burrito. But it was something that made THIS burrito unique. A stand-out, signature kind of tortilla. Our server was kind and patient. The bathroom had the littlest sink I have ever seen, and it felt like I was going in someone's house because of the whole curtained, back-room thing.
Things I didn't like:
Uh, that Mary got the name wrong. And that we had to look at the sign during the next burrito trip to figure it out. And the lack of update.
Sorry, team.
Showing posts with label bathroom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bathroom. Show all posts
14 September 2008
Cuetzala II, or Mary reminded me to blog.
Mary might be able to hold her Mexican Coke, but I can post a blog entry without 17 typos. (You should have seen her first try.)
The bathroom walls were bright pink from the middle up, with white spirals hand painted intermittently. There were also non-functional glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. My favorite bathroom thingie: the framed picture of two white horses, a mom and baby nuzzling combo…with pastel butterfly wings. Beeeeeeautiful. Seriously.
This place was so charming, I almost forgot that I don’t like burritos much. Mary got angry when I suggested that I order something else off their awesome and elaborate menu. “It’s the first burrito on Clark! You have to get a burrito!” She has a lovely way of saying burrito, with clipped vowels and an emphasis on the t. I sucked it up and ordered my burrito, secretly fantasizing about tacos and other crunchy-shelled delights.
My veggie burrito was pretty good. Crispy on the outside, so it held all the drippy mush in the middle. I could have done without the mushrooms, but the yellow peppers and fresh avocadoes were downright classy. And the plate was pretty. The rice came shaped like the inside of an ice cream scoop.
Our server was so smiley and accommodating and good. I loved her. She didn’t flinch at Suzy’s “lettuce on the side” or Mary’s “no this, that, or the other” or “three separate checks, please.” She was too young to be my mom, but she would make somebody a great mother.
A great place, an above average burrito, a sparkling bathroom, nice tables…not your average taco hut, that’s for darn sure. And it was BYOB.
The bathroom walls were bright pink from the middle up, with white spirals hand painted intermittently. There were also non-functional glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. My favorite bathroom thingie: the framed picture of two white horses, a mom and baby nuzzling combo…with pastel butterfly wings. Beeeeeeautiful. Seriously.
This place was so charming, I almost forgot that I don’t like burritos much. Mary got angry when I suggested that I order something else off their awesome and elaborate menu. “It’s the first burrito on Clark! You have to get a burrito!” She has a lovely way of saying burrito, with clipped vowels and an emphasis on the t. I sucked it up and ordered my burrito, secretly fantasizing about tacos and other crunchy-shelled delights.
My veggie burrito was pretty good. Crispy on the outside, so it held all the drippy mush in the middle. I could have done without the mushrooms, but the yellow peppers and fresh avocadoes were downright classy. And the plate was pretty. The rice came shaped like the inside of an ice cream scoop.
Our server was so smiley and accommodating and good. I loved her. She didn’t flinch at Suzy’s “lettuce on the side” or Mary’s “no this, that, or the other” or “three separate checks, please.” She was too young to be my mom, but she would make somebody a great mother.
A great place, an above average burrito, a sparkling bathroom, nice tables…not your average taco hut, that’s for darn sure. And it was BYOB.
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