The Mission’s best late-night street food, according to its most dedicated chef

When he’s not working at his popular Tenderloin pizzeria Outta Sight, chef Eric Ehler can often be found zigzagging across the city — on foot, on bike, on a skateboard — in search of hidden culinary destinations. The long-time resident of the Mission is compulsive about exploring everything from unassuming doughnut shops and mom-and-pop Japanese restaurants to anything fried outside on a plancha.

It’s incomprehensible to him that most people navigate the city’s food scene based on listicles and Yelp reviews. “It’s all the same places,” he says ruefully, “which is fine. But there’s more out there.” 

A lot more. “There’s a lot of street food these days,” Ehler continues, “way more than ever.” He estimates he’s tried about 80% of the vendors who regularly set up in the Mission. Some stands are simple, manned by a person who dragged out a barbecue; others have music, lights, a generator, tents, tables, and chairs.

Many operate outside the law. The Department of Health — the agency charged with ensuring that San Francisco’s 7,000 or so food facilities comply with safety laws — requires mobile vendors to pass inspections and acquire a permit in order to operate. Basic requirements include having a handwashing station for workers and equipment that keeps food at a safe holding temperature. 

But the fact that most street spots operate without permits doesn’t faze Ehler. “Being a professional cook for many years, it’s very apparent if they have their shit together, if they’re using professional kitchen practices,” he says. 

Dining is at your own risk. But it’s one Ehler thinks is worth it — if you follow his lead. 

Ehler kindly offered to take The Standard on a one-night, four-stop Mission street-food crawl. “This is the real Jonathan Gold shit,” he says. 

After meeting up for a tequila shot on the back patio at dive bar Zeitgeist, we head south down Mission Street. Our first stop is the lauded al pastor stand run by Juan Lazaro, an OG of the Mission’s street-food scene. In April, Tacos El Charro moved from 19th and Mission to a prominent location outside the West African restaurant and club Bissap Baobab.

Under the blinding glow of utility lights are not one but two trompos, the vertical spits used to make al pastor, wafting the scent of roasting pork. One supports a stack of adobo-marinated pork; the other, onion-scented meat for tacos Arabes. Both dishes hail from Puebla, Lazaro’s hometown, and reflect the melding of the region’s Mexican and Lebanese cuisines. The pork for the tacos Arabes is seasoned with cumin and oregano, spices common in the eastern Mediterranean. 

Ehler’s order: two tacos al pastor ($4 each), two tacos Arabes ($4 each), and two tacos de tripas ($5 each) — the last of which is the menu’s crispy-on-the-outside, spongy-on-the-inside sleeper hit for those willing to eat small intestines. The al pastor, topped with a thin slice of pineapple, is indeed delicious, but the tacos Arabes are the real rarity. Traditionally served with a pita-style bread, these instead come in big flour tortillas, topped with onions and melted mozzarella cheese before being rolled up like an open-ended burrito.

Two blocks south is Rosita’s Kitchen, a simple tent across from a Chase bank on Mission and 21st streets. There’s a folding table and a smattering of plastic chairs, filled with small groups of bar-goers and a family enjoying a late dinner.

Ehler loves the hamburguesa ($13), a meat-lover’s dream, the burger patty buried under strips of bacon, ham, mozzarella, and pico de gallo. But the real star is the pambazo ($8), a gut-busting, smoky chorizo-and-potato torta made on a squishy bun that’s dipped in salsa before being fried on the plancha. The texture doubles down on softness: It’s a mess and exactly the kind of greasy, carby thing you want after downing one drink too many.

Ehler takes a massive bite, paper plate catching the wayward grease. He is clearly in heaven.

A block away is Tacos King Maya, a spot you could easily miss — barring the unmistakable scent of bacon-wrapped hot dogs. Henry Chimas hails from the Yucatan, so his menu also includes poc chuc, the citrus-marinated grilled pork, a specialty of the region. 

However, that is not the main event. The don’t-miss item is subtly advertised by a handwritten sign on a piece of blue masking tape: panuchos, $5 each. 

Labor-intensive panuchos, a classic antojito in the Yucatan, are not easy to find in San Francisco. A puffed corn tortilla is stuffed with black beans and fried to the color of golden honey. On top, Chimas heaps cabbage, a mound of poc chuc, and pickled jalapeños and onions. A hefty wedge of tomato and thick slices of creamy avocado provide mild respite from the splash of fiery habanero salsa and a squeeze of lime. 

Sometimes you need a bathroom break when you’re on a street-food tour. Hot tip: Do as Ehler and I do and grab a beer at El Trebol, the bar just east of Mission on the corner of 22nd and Capp. It’s a scene: dark and crowded, the crack of pool balls ricocheting, ranchera music blasting. 

Beers drunk, we make a beeline to Tacos Santo Toribio, a mustard-yellow food truck parked just across the street. Ehler’s order is simple: a foil-wrapped pollo asada burrito ($15). He deems the salsas some of the best of the night, proffering a teetering stack of cups filled with red and green varieties, plus pico de gallo. 

Leaning against a building, Ehler unwraps the top half of the burrito and liberally applies salsa to each bite. It’s well past midnight, and the streets are getting quiet. But if one thing is clear, it’s that San Francisco’s late-night food options are abundant — if you know where to look.