Because the Mission is not just a vibe — it is a religion wrapped in foil
Let’s get this straight. San Francisco did not invent the burrito. But it absolutely perfected it. Not in some boutique, guac-on-the-side, sad-scoops-of-rice kind of way — we are talking about blistering-hot, foil-swaddled monsters the size of your forearm. The kind of burrito that punches you in the face with flavor and then buys you a drink.
You do not just eat a burrito here. You enter a pact with it.
After weeks of roaming through steam-filled kitchens, taqueria counters, and late-night corner spots — sometimes slightly inebriated, always hungry — Salta is ready to name the three best burritos in San Francisco. With one clear champion. Two worthy runners-up. And one honorable mention that might just save your soul after a night of questionable decisions.
First Place
Underdogs
(Too, Tres, and Cantina- three locations to pick from)
The crown goes to Underdogs. All three of them. Whether you are at Underdogs Too in the Outer Sunset, holding court with a cold Pacifico at Underdogs Tres next to Golden Gate Park, or regrouping from financial district chaos inside Underdogs Cantina downtown — this is where San Francisco’s burrito game hits its peak.
Their signature move is the California Burrito. Your choice of meat (popular opinion-Carne Asada), melted cheese, pico de Gallo, and the kicker — French fries. Better yet, they have house made salsas in convenient squeeze bottles so you can use as much as you want. Either smother it or squeeze it onto every bite. A love letter to Baja California and the bold genius of putting carbs inside carbs. It is not traditional, but it is absolutely the future.
If the Cali-Burrito craze isn’t your thing, they have several different varieties of tortilla wrapped food piles that will suit any craving. From San Francisco burritos to San Diego burritos, check out their menu to see why we like it so much
Once your done with your burrito (or four), get some churros. You will not regret it. Sugary, golden, crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside; if God created anything better, he kept it for himself. They come with caramel and chocolate sauce and it would behoove you to try it with both.
Underdogs gets what others miss. It is not just about the food — it is about the mood. The surfboards on the walls, the hustle of the kitchen crew, the fact that the salsa actually has bite. It feels like the kind of place where you could plan a road trip or a revolution.
Second Place
La Taqueria
Mission District
No list is complete without La Taqueria. It is legendary, it is packed, and it does not use rice. That is not a typo — no rice. Just blistered tortillas, juicy carnitas, creamy beans, pico de gallo with attitude, and a legacy that dates back to 1973.
This is where the Mission-style burrito first became an icon. The super burrito with everything is still the move. Wrap it in napkins, because you are going to war. You will get messy. You will not care.
Third Place
El Farolito
24th and Mission
You stumble into El Farolito after midnight because you need something real — not artisanal, not low-carb, just loud, greasy salvation in a tortilla. You order the al pastor burrito because that is what the guy in front of you with the face tattoo ordered. It is the right choice.
The vibe is full fluorescent chaos. Cooks yelling in Spanish, salsa flying, a line that somehow never moves and never ends. It is a rite of passage. You do not go to Farolito for comfort. You go because you need it to hurt a little.
Honorable Mention
Papalote
This one is for the clean-cut adventurer. You know who you are. You pack trail mix. You own a water filter. And when you want a burrito that feels fresh but still hits hard, you head to Papalote.
The grilled chicken is tender enough to write poetry about. The salsa — a fire-roasted tomato blend with smoky kick — is so good they bottle it. If you bring it to a dinner party, someone will steal it. That is a guarantee.
Wrap It Up and Venture On
San Francisco is a city where flavor is a fight and burritos are the battleground. These are not meals. They are monuments to grit, hunger, migration, and culinary mischief. The city is changing fast, but the burrito — messy, molten, magnificent — is still holding the line.
So grab a foil-wrapped miracle. Eat it standing on a curb. Let it drip down your wrist. Regret nothing.
Because here, burritos are not just food. They are folklore.
And they always say: Venture On.
Salta 