San Francisco has been, until fairly recently, not known as a good spot for Mexican food. That is, not known to outsiders. But the neighborhood south of Market Street around the historic Mission Dolores is definitely Mexican, and more than once Joe and I, after a large, late dim sum brakfast, had tacos for tea (Joe's phrase) there before a proper San Francisco dinner. So when I heard about Mission Taco Joint on Delmar, I had hopes.
It looks right, although less crowded than its Left Coast siblings – San Francisco real estate is as pricey as New York, and the restaurants nearly as wont to cram in as many seats as feasible and then add another two-top. Very casual, a large mural on one wall, a decor that invites shorts and flip-flops. It's quite loud when it gets busy, not surprisingly.
Inviting stuff on the menu, to be sure, but one of the baseline tests for Mexican restaurants has to be guacamole. Creamy-tasting but nicely chunky, and topped with a small spoonful of pico de gallo and a shower of queso fresco, its texture is so nice that it takes a couple of bites before the mouth realizes that the seasoning is coming from the cheese and a light hit from the pico de gallo. The guacamole seems nothing more than mashed avocado. Each table sports a bottle of green habanero sauce, fortunately. Sadly, the warm chips were nevertheless stale.
Tacos, of course, utilizing house-made corn tortillas, according to the menu. Interestingly, they only use one per taco, which means it's easy for the masa to disintegrate into the hand before the diner's done. (Most of the Cherokee Street-type spots use two.) Duck tacos sounded like a good idea; the shreds of duck meat is paired up with pork belly, giving the potential for a real grease bomb. Happily, it wasn't remarkably so, but there was a disappointing lack of duck flavor.
The Cowboy burrito is not, quite, the size of the cowboy's forearm, but it's mighty big. Knife and fork are necessary, even if the optional tomato-ancho sauce and melted cheese are skipped. Large slices of pretty tender brisket, some smoky black beans, a little rice and corn. The results were flavorful, nice notes of cumin and Mexican oregano, but only that ancho sauce, which was just a polite covering, barely masking most of the tortilla, gave any heat.
The most interesting find was the ahogado. It's a torta, or sandwich on a large, fat bun. The word ahogado translates to something like "smother"; the torta of that name is always covered in sauce. At Mission Taco Joint, the sandwich is made of pork carnitas, smashed black beans, Chihuahua cheese, and chipotle bacon, the whole thing anointed in a properly generous manner with an ancho sauce. Good stuff, but it was the ancho sauce that made it outstanding, not fiery hot at all, but a fine example of how chiles can have a slightly sweet fruit flavor to balance out the salty-spicy notes. Chili-crusted fries, which come with all the tortas, looked more seasoned than what they actually tasted life.
Not surprisingly, there's a good selection of draft beer and often-tempting house cocktails. Pleasant service, although erratic at times, with frequent checking interspersed with the thousand-yard stare.
A challenging mix of tasty and hesitant when it comes to seasoning. Your call.
Mission Taco Joint
6235 Delmar Blvd., University City
314-932-5430
Lunch and Dinner daily
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Tight at the entrance
Smoking: No
Entrees: $8-$10