We Started the Fire: A Thorough Investigation of the Chipotle Quesarito Urban Legend

Thwarted on our past quesarito mission at the Chipotle (6316 Delmar Boulevard, University City; 314-678-3200) in University City and the Chipotle (1 North Central Avenue, Clayton; 314-725-5650) in Clayton, we decided to visit the Chipotle (1255 South Kirkwood Road; Kirkwood; 314-835-9982) in Kirkwood to try our luck there.

Upon entering the restaurant, we were heartened to see few patrons and no one standing in line to order. This is it, we thought. If we're ever getting this thing, it's now. Our previous experience at the flying saucer Chipotle had slightly diminished our confidence, but despite our apprehension we proceeded to place our ridiculous food order: "Can you make us a cheese quesadilla, then use that quesadilla to wrap a burrito?"

"Sure," the employee responded. "People order weirder things than that all the time. What do you want on the burrito?"

And right in front of our eyes, a Chipotle staff member put together a quesarito combining brown rice, black beans, fajita veggies, barbacoa, cheese, hot salsa and lettuce -- he warned us that adding sour cream, guacamole or too much salsa might make the quesarito soggy. Sure, light on the soggy ingredients, buddy. Sounds great.

Liz Miller

This quesarito combines the best elements of a quesadilla and a burrito in one very messy meal.

In total the quesarito took about fifteen minutes to prepare from quesadilla cooking to burrito assembly to one last go-round on the tortilla press. While we waited for our quesarito, we thought of the manager at the flying-saucer Chipotle, and how he'd said the quesarito's complex preparation requirements hold up regular production. He was correct. Now we were really feeling ashamed of ourself.

But then the quesarito was ready and our shame dissolved into exultant joy.

It wasn't much to look at. In fact, it was bulging from its tortilla-shell seams -- not unlike our own pants would soon experience. Melted cheese oozed from its sides; black beans cascaded from every torn and gaping crevice. The quesarito was a food glob hemorrhaging quesadilla-burrito innards all over a waxed paper-lined red basket. Truth be told, it was far from pretty.

But the first bite rendered appearances irrelevant. Imagine a Chipotle burrito with an interior layer of hot melted cheese, and then imagine an extra outer layer of hot melted cheese, too.

It was everything we'd dreamed it would be -- if not better.

Those first few messy forkfuls of quesarito were unadulterated bliss. But as we continued our excavation, the substance became more unwieldy and difficult to eat. The melted cheese dampened the tortillas, while the rice, beans, vegetables and meat spilling out on all sides slipped and slid around the greasy waxed paper like billiard balls scattering across a pool table.

And while we greatly enjoyed the incarnation of the quesarito we ate, we learned a few things and were left with a few questions. Chief among them: Why did we do this?

And: What do Chipotle staffers really think of customers like Gut Check and Fast Company, who request such disgusting meals?

We called our buddy Chris Arnold, Chipotle's corporate communications director, to find out.