On the Richmond Burrito Trail: El Tapatio, the inside job

There is a fake taco truck bolted to the side of El Tapatio Restaurant on 23rd Street, open late, doing real work for the neighborhood. But there is also a door, and a dining room behind it, and this time we used it.

El Tapatio is located at 910 23rd Street in Richmond, California.

Half expected to be told to turn around. To be pointed firmly back toward the truck-shaped appendage, handed a foil brick through a little window, and sent back out into the Richmond afternoon. It did not happen. We were allowed to stay.

Inside, El Tapatio has made choices. Faux stone walls the color of old mustard, brick archways framing nothing in particular, a column wrapped floor to ceiling in twisted rope like a prop from a Mexican restaurant that appeared to someone in a dream.

Inside El Tapatio on 23rd Street, faux stone walls, tile floors and a quiet TV hum set the scene.

Terracotta tile underfoot. Spanish-language news murmurs from a flatscreen mounted up in the corner, Edición Digital, while the afternoon light comes through windows that look directly back out at the fake taco truck you just escaped.

The burrito arrives, and it is a serious document: 743 grams, 50 grams larger than the last El Tapatio burrito consumed. It is a traditional Jalisco-style burrito assembled from ingredients on hand, not an elevated slab.

Pinto beans, present and accounted for. Sour cream in a supportive role, not drowning everything in a dairy landslide. The cheese melts and pulls, behaving like cheese. Melty, real, committed cheese.

The rice is red. Not orange, not brick, not some pale approximation. That deep, holy, Knorr-kissed crimson. The slab is loaded with chicken, too, fat pieces, not shy about themselves, but sadly nearly unseasoned.

Then the pico. Diced tomatoes in serious quantities, bright and fresh and tumbling out at you, cutting through the fat, waking up your mouth, reminding you that vegetables exist and they are glad to be here. Cilantro woven through the whole enterprise. We also found an unexpected pocket of shredded lettuce that we chose not to let bother an otherwise respectable burrito.

A freshly made Chicken Burrito from El Tapatio shows off melted cheese, pinto beans, and a balanced hit of sour cream.

And the salsas. The red comes in fresh and honest, pepper seeds visible, quiet heat lurking in the corners, bits of char visible, little dark flecks that tell the story of a flame. Fresh salsa that still remembers being a tomato not long ago. We respected it. We used a lot of it.

The green sidesteps the vinegar-forward assault that plagues the genre entirely. Gentler, sneakier, herbal, and warm, heat that builds slowly from the back rather than punching you in the front of the face.

The previous Richmond Burrito Trail stop at this establishment, filed under the parking lot era, the outside-window era, noted that the burrito was dry and overwhelmed by creamy cheese. Something different happens when you slip inside. The food responds to being taken seriously. The burrito responds to being eaten at a table.

Richmond has given us worse afternoons than this one. Richmond has given us parking lots at 3 a.m., and burritos that needed more sauce. But on this particular afternoon, El Tapatio with red rice and melty cheese and a red salsa that knew when to stop, we were content. We were, dare we say it, fed.

Go inside.

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