I woke up with the remains of a burrito next to the sink. It was everything. It had french fries in it, and avocado, and sour cream, and probably sprinkles of unicorn dreams. It was at once crunchy and smooth, and hot and cold, and salty and gooey and chewy. I remember ordering "The Californian" from a menu with 800 other unnecessary alternatives. I watched as it emerged into this world one spoonful of love at a time and then beautifully origamied by a soulful Mexican man who will be the godfather of my future son. It was, quite simply, the finest burrito I've ever had the pleasure of leaving next to my sink at 3:00 in the morning. BUT FROM WHERE? Sweet Mary and Joseph I cannot remember where it came from. Please help. I was walking home from Hi Tops in Castro through the Mission--walking toward SOMA. I was walking down a numbered street but don't know which one. Probably low-to-mid teens. As I walked east, it was on the lefthand (north) side of the street. There was a ton of tables inside, a burrito assembly line (neigh, a wish-granting magic factory), and lots of Mexicans so you know that shit was tight. I've got no receipt. No signage on the bag. No memory. Nothing. Let's track down this nursery of culinary magic. I need this burrito in my life every day. Did I mention it had french fries IN THE GODDAM BURRITO? Where did it come from? Please help me, and then meet me there. I'm getting the Californian.