Daddy Donkey. Mission: Burrito

Since I started this burrito blog all those years* ago, I have noticed a common theme emerging. And that theme is. ‘GO TO DADDY DONKEY. GO ON, GO TO DADDY DONKEY. IT’S THE BEST ONE. GO ON. DADDDDYYYY DONKEEEEY!’ So many people have recommended it (namely @MarinaMetro, @Lady_Lucan, @JimFam a girl in my office and around 65,436 food websites), I couldn’t leave it off my list.

The main problem is that Daddy Donkey’s opening hours are 7.30am-4pm on weekdays. I work just off Carnaby Street (please do not stalk me. Thank you.), and Daddy Donkey** is near Chancery Lane. Of course, I would be fully prepared to forgo a lie-in for the sake of my burrito mission.

But before 11am they only serve breakfast burritos (a situation universally known as The McDonalds Conundrum), and I couldn’t make a mockery of my own rules, which say each burrito needs to contain chicken for a fair comparison. Even if you squint, scrambled egg and sausage are impressively dissimilar to chicken.

I would have to either book a day off just to buy a burrito, which would be quite embarrassing when filling in my holiday form. Or, I’d have to fit a trip in inside my lunch hour. Could it be done? There was only one way to find out…

12.32pm: In-depth research (Twitter) has told me that the queue at Daddy Donkey’s blue-and-red liveried truck is usually about 25 minutes long (‘worth every second!’ @JonathanMathias parps enthusiastically). If I can get there early and whittle that down to about 20 minutes, it’ll give me 40 minutes’ travelling time. If I do that not-quite-running walk I do when I’m late for work but don’t want to look too unsexy, I might just make it. I glance at my computer’s clock. It is 12.32pm precisely.

12.46pm: Having nimbly hop-scotched my way around the tourists of Carnaby Street – who traditionally move at the same speed as an elderly man with an arthritic hip who is playing a game of statues in very heavy shoes – I emerge, blinking, from Chancery Lane tube, before heading to Leather Lane. Not-quite-running down the street, I spot a flash of blue and red…

12.53pm: I’m in the queue! If I can get to the front in 18 minutes, I should be back at my desk at PRECISELY 1.32pm. I bloody WIN at getting to places on time! I bask in the admiring glances of passers-by. ‘That’s a long queue,’ they are probably thinking. ‘She must really know her stuff, grub-wise.’ My mind wanders. I start to wonder if they do a donkey burrito.

1.02pm: DISASTER. I’ve reached the front of the queue in double-quick time. But Daddy and his Donkey have run out of chicken. It will take four minutes to finish cooking a new batch. A bead of sweat creeps apologetically down my forehead. I could go for pork. But that would be all wrong. People would revolt if I bend the rules! I may as well have had scrambled egg! I decide to risk it. ‘I’ll wait,’ I say imperiously, stepping aside for the chicken-shunning masses to place their orders.

1.06pm: The chicken is ready. My burrito is being made. It will cost me £5.50, and I also order a can of Diet Coke for just 60p. I look longingly at the Roasted Red Pepper Vinaigrette. It looks lovely, but is 50p extra, and would go against the spirit of my mission. A huge pile of crispy-looking chicken is heaped onto my tortilla. Daddy, I think I love you.

1.07pm: Luckily, there are no tables outside the van. I would have been sad to have to eat my burrito walking back to the tube if I hadn’t had to. But I would have had to, so it’s fine. Unwrapping the foil, my lips quiver. And suddenly, it’s happening. It’s really happening. I’M EATING A DADDY DONKEY BURRITO.

1.08pm: It’s okay.

1.09pm: Only kidding! It’s really nice. The crispy chicken has tons of flavour and is nicely juicy, and there is a LOT of it. It’s very different to the chicken I’ve had anywhere else. There’s not quite enough hot sauce for my liking, but what’s there is lovely. There’s a generous amount of cheese, and not too much sour cream to overpower it, and the filling is very well distributed all the way through. It’s a shame I’m having to eat it on the hoof, but that’s probably really authentic and street foody and awesome, maybe.

A burrito in transit, yesterday

1.13pm: Clutching the remains of my burrito, I head down to the tube. If all goes well, I might just about make it…I’m feeling too full to not-quite-run, but I do walk down the escalator. This is incredibly dangerous, as my rail-holding hand is clutching a burrito corpse. I’m feeling a lot like Ethan Hunt right now.

1.32pm: Panting and waddling, I arrive back at my desk. I look at the clock. 1.32pm exactly. I am so excited, I start hopping up and down, pointing at my screen and shouting, ‘One thirty-two pm! ONE THIRTY-TWO PM!!’ like Doc Brown getting over-enthused about the 1.6 Gigawatts needed to power the DeLorean***. My colleagues look bemused and tell me I smell of burritos. But I don’t care. I won.

Here is a picture of the clock. It took me a minute to minimise the highly sensitive documents on my desktop, and I didn’t take a ‘before’ photo either, rendering it entirely redundant

*Three weeks.

** My friend recently remarked, ‘What’s that burrito place you went to called? No Daddy Don’t?’ which is so funny I’m tempted to give it extra points.

**If you don’t understand what this means, we can never be friends. ADDENDUM: @Dookie3000 has pointed out, with rightful indignation, that this should be 1.21 gigawatts. I’d like to pretend this was merely a test, but lies make Baby Jesus cry. I’ve unfriended myself on Facebook, and am wearing a hair-shirt.

Mood before: Duh-duh der-ner, duh-duh DER-ner.

Mood after: WHO’S THE DADDY?

Rating: Food: 8/10 Ambience: 5/10 Staff: 8/10 Value: 9/10

Where: 100 Leather Lane, City of London, EC1N 7TE, weekdays only

Closest tube: Chancery Lane. You were paying attention, right?

Web: Find them here / @DaddyDonkey

Recommended?: Ee-AWWW! (Yes)


2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Victoria Shortt on July 1, 2011 at 1:05 pm

    Oooo you never mentioned Burritos yesterday…..I bloody love mexican food….next time!



  2. Posted by Shelley on July 12, 2011 at 4:37 pm

    I commend you for eating a Daddy Donkey whilst walking – it should be a challenge in itself, those things are so messy!!



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