I feel like I can finally say I live in San Francisco. Last night, my husband and I had our first burrito in the Mission. You don’t really live here until this flavorful moment. When deciding what burrito would be our “welcome” to the city, we didn’t have to look too far. La Taqueria, cited by many as the “best burrito in the nation,” was an easy decision for us.

Standing in line to place our order, my mouth watered and my stomach grumbled as I watched the workers do their magic and as the smells infiltrated my soul. Yes, there was lots of anticipation. I must admit I was also nervous. I tried not to read and research too much about this place as hype often leads to disappointment. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t disappointed.

Unwrapping my burrito was more exciting than Christmas morning. While the wait was no more than 10 minutes from the line to receiving my order, it felt like a lifetime, a hungry lifetime. The next part was slightly sacrilegious: we cut our burritos in half to share.

            

The burritos, carne asada and carnitas, respectively, were all killer no filler. That’s right; no rice. Meat, pinto beans, pico de gallo. We ordered ours as “super” so that adds cheese, sour cream, and avocado. Delicious!

The moisture to meat ratio was spot-on. I tried to eat slowly to savor every bite, but before I knew it, my burrito was gone. And what happened next is why I’m still full this morning. My husband suggested we try a taco since we had been sitting at a counter watching the kitchen at work, drooling the whole time.

Chicken tacos (“super”). When you eat your burrito so fast that your stomach hasn’t registered its fullness, this occurs. I have no shame or regrets. I will be wearing sweatpants today though.

The tacos were a tortilla marvel. As you can see in the picture, they use two tortillas per taco. The genius is that the inner tortilla is slightly fried and has a slice of cheese so it has a crispy, melted cheese foundation. The outer tortilla is soft like blanket that cradles the whole concoction. The chicken was juicy and I may have a crush on their pico de gallo.

At this point, my stomach registered it was beyond full and my brain went to survival mode. My husband and I drove to the Palace of Fine Arts to take a walk to work off our gluttony. It was a gorgeous night in the city and the Palace of Fine Arts was a location we had never ventured to before.

Built in 1915, the Palace of Fine Arts is an architectural gem. It’s also a great space for a leisurely walk to burn off excess calories. However, I think most visitors at night are here for its romantic setting. We witnessed two marriage proposals and one make out session on a park bench. My husband and I walked hand-in-hand the moonlight and let it soak in that we are officially “San Franciscans.”