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Off The Menu: Chipotle Quesarito

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Plenty of folks regard the Chipotle quesarito as the “crown jewel” of all secret menus. While I haven’t had every single thing on every secret menu there is (options like In-N-Out are unfortunately not available here in New York) I’m prepared to crown the Chipotle quesarito one of the most amazing “fast food” experiences on the planet.

We’ve all had quesadillas, unless you’re an anti-Mexican food prick, in which case, I have no time for you. We’ve all had burritos, because they’re probably the best thing ever invented. Chances are, you’ve probably even had a quesarito, but in reality, you haven’t had one until you’ve had the one from Chipotle.

I was starving by the time my buddy and I got to Chipotle after a long day of shopping and nerding out over various things. Sauntering (yeah, I said it) up to the counter, I made it known to my chum that the quesarito was on my mind. He had enjoyed one before, but he hadn’t had one in a while. I convinced him to partake. At the counter, I ordered it as-is: “Hey, can I get a quesarito, bro?”

The dude behind the counter smiled knowingly, nodded, and began assembling this Frankenstein of black beans, cheese, pork, and more. I could’ve gone chicken, tofu, or any of the other Chipotle toppings, but I’m a sucker for a burrito with pork, so, #YOLO.


After a few piles of cheese, sour cream, lettuce, and a sliver of guacamole, the kid at the end of the line began folding the burrito. Once he got it sealed, it immediately exploded due to the orgy of fillings and the tightness of the quesadilla wrap. He was forced to wrap a second shell around the whole damn thing and it was magic. I ended up using some hot sauce, too, which is a rarity for me, but it only added to the experience.


Oddly enough, this thing never fell apart on me, which was surprising. I’ve always unwrapped the quesarito completely from it’s tinfoil wrapper, which I guess is a rookie mistake, but this time, I kept that bad boy on as a final layer of protection for my meal. Thankfully, there were exactly zero spills. There wasn’t even any splash damage. There was a heavy dent made in the napkin situation at that particular Chipotle, but whatever, fuck the trees–I needed to soak up my quesarito juice. Feel free to use that as a semen-related joke in the comments below, commentariat.


Washing that bitch down with a Mr. Pibb (again, #YOLO) was probably one of the best fast food decisions I’ve ever made in my life. I don’t often go for soda or whatever, but when Mr. Pibb is available, you get him in the game. If you don’t, you’re a failure. He’s Dr. Pepper’s angrier, more preposterous brother, for those who don’t know. Seriously, if you’re at the point where you don’t know Mr. Pibb, it’s time to rethink some shit.

I couldn’t possibly recommend the Chipotle quesarito more. I worry about giving this thing a perfect rating, a 10 out of 10, but I’ll be damned if this thing wasn’t flavorful and outrageous. Getting one of these tomorrow would be the best decision you make all week.

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Journalist, writer, bon vivant.

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