Before seeing my last show at the Grand Illusion on Saturday, I strolled the U-District. Used to live there, always liked it, and I’d come early planning to eat, but without a particular restaurant in mind. University Way has always been a hopping tapestry of interesting little mom & pop eateries, and I knew I’d find something good.
It’s been a long while since I’ve spent time in the area, and in some ways it hasn’t changed. There are still lots of street kids, because if your parents kick you out at 13 for being gay or atheist or simply difficult, you probably end up on University Way.
The street urchins are forever, but there are also more grown-up bums than there used to be, more on a per-block basis than you’d see downtown, and you see lots downtown. The sidewalks were splattered with vomit and litter and needles, and it felt like general ruination all over the place. My daily budget and willingness for giving cash to panhandlers was depleted after three handouts, and subsequent beggars got a nope I haven’t uttered in years.
Other things in the U-District have also changed, and this is America, so the changes aren’t for the better.
There used to be several movie theaters within a few blocks walk — the Grand Illusion (closing tomorrow), the Metro (closing tonight), the Neptune (now a live venue), Seven Gables (burned to the ground, 2020), the University Theater (now a comedy club), and the Varsity, which was the premium place to see a recent film or something arty.
The Varsity had been a small-scale movie palace, and got plexed in the 1980s, but they did a great job plexing it. The new auditoriums that replaced the balcony were almost as nice as the main room downstairs, and the whole theater retained the aura of velour seats and plush carpeting, uniformed ushers and fancy concessions, with an elevator to the upstairs auditoriums … as of the last time I bought a ticket, circa 1990.
Now it’s a wreck. It’s still open for business (closed Tuesdays and Wednesdays), but the marquee is broken in a dozen places, glass in the ticket booth and doors is shattered, and the empty exterior poster boxes are literally crumbling. Through the windows, you can see inside, but what you can see looks more like a site for urban exploring than a functional theater.
I walked by a 1930s apartment building where, once upon so many years ago, my girlfriend April & I had gone to a photographer, whose office was on the ground floor. The photos were for no particular reason, I just wanted pictures of ‘us’ as ‘us’, and this was before everyone carried cameras in their butt pockets. After April dumped me, that picture was all I had of her. Now, where the photographer’s studio had been, there’s a 7-Eleven.
Still I was hungry for a pre-movie lunch at one of the restaurants that line the Ave, but few seemed appetizing. There was something called Capsule Cafe, and the name intrigued me — space age lunch via pills? But it was padlocked. When I got home and googled, I learned that it’s is a gacha concept restaurant, but I don’t grasp what gacha is.
All the other restaurants (University Way is about half restaurants) were presumably independent, with no chain names that I recognized except Jack-In-the-Box at the corner. But all these indy restaurants seemed similar to each other, many with matching or near-matching signs. The buildings are old, but the signs are all in the modern, sorta plastic style. Even the fonts look the same on many of the signs.
Down a side street, was a cafe called simply George, not George’s. I’d noticed it on a bus ride long ago, so I thought I’d drop in for a sandwich and coffee or something. George was fairly busy, but a sign at the door said they accept Apple Pay and credit or debit cards only. I’m the proud owner of a debit card, but I prefer spending cash, which used to be “legal tender for all debts, public and private,” and still ought to be. The policy seems exclusionary — swanky people only, no poors allowed — so, goodbye, George.
Back on University, all the places that seemed interesting were closed, and the places that were open all gave off a vibe that said, we’re just like the chains. In a what-the-hell decision, I walked into the place that looked most ubiquitous, most gaudy and most like a chain.
It’s called Burritos California. It’s bright red and yellow inside, McDonald’s colors, with yellow metal tables and red plastic chairs, and a flashy animated menu board. I ordered a breakfast burrito from a bored young woman, and stood waiting for five minutes before deciding it’s not fast-food, and taking a red plastic seat. I sat waiting for five more minutes before my burrito was ready.
It was… edible, but a disappointment, even when I hadn’t expected much. The tortilla was rubbery, stretching out with each bite, like cheese that’s melty. The filling was egg and ham, and OK, except that I pulled three bits of gristly meat from my mouth. And I don’t understand how they accomplished it, but this was the greasiest burrito I’ve ever had. My fingers and wrists were wet after every bite. Dry off with a paper napkin, and the next bite was drizzle again.
Looking around at the lack of décor, I noticed a big, colorful poster bragging that they have “the best burritos in town,” which is certainly untrue. Seattle is not famous for outstanding Mexican cuisine, but what I’d eaten wasn’t even the best burrito on University Way, if there’s another Mexican restaurant, and I think there is.
Next to that poster was a smaller sign, saying to call if you had any complaints about quality or service. My complaints are minor and I wasn’t about to call, but what slapped me was, the sign said to call a number in the 714 area code. That’s Los Angeles. This is Seattle. Burritos California isn’t an indy place that looks like a chain, it’s a chain.
So instead of actually trying to make the best burrito in town, the ownership in L.A. prints up AI-generated posters bragging that they have the best burritos.
Or maybe I’m mistaken? It was a 714 phone number on the sign, but the company’s website lists only four locations, and they’re all in the Seattle metroplex. So, who knows? But it sure looks like a chain, and tastes like a chain.
My brother Dick would love the place, though. He’s famous in the family for rudeness at restaurants, demanding “just a little ice” in his soda and then, always, complaining that it’s too much ice. I didn’t order a drink at Burritos California, but everyone who did was asked, “Would you like that with ice, or no ice, or just a little ice?”
Burritos California
4743 University Wy NE, U-District
Food: meh
Price: good
Service: not good
Transit: Link #1, #31, #32, #43, #44, #48, #49, #70, #79, #372, #542, #556, #586
Verdict: NO.
1/30/2025
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