It’s been a long time since I ordered a torta in San Francisco. The Mexican sandwich is quite often delicious, but it’s usually just wrong. I can’t imagine that a French roll plays a huge part in the history of Mexican cuisine. Unfortunately, that’s often what you find around here; Mexican ingredients on average white bread. No matter how delicious the sandwich might be, I just can’t help but think that’s a creation better left for Subway. Like rolled tacos in San Diego, perhaps a proper torta never made it up here.

Regardless of my torta bread snobbery, I’ve had my eye on the bucket of bread at Taqueria Castillo for quite some time. Oblong and with a darker crust, the tortas-in-waiting offer a hopeful glimpse into a sandwich future that may be. But the time had to be right. Questionable food choices made yesterday provided all the inspiration to finally cross that troubled bridge.

The Oakland A’s were hosting the Giants and free tickets led to some lower level seating. Not relegated to the seats in the sky, I had my eye on Kinder’s BBQ. A recent NY Times article rated ballpark eats from coast to coast. Kinder’s was the supposed winner for Oakland. Wrong, NY Times, wrong.

The “ball tip” sandwich was sliced sirloin, lettuce and tomato wrapped up in a hoagie roll with BBQ sauce. The price and size were fine as far as ballpark food goes (under ten bucks, can’t complain too much). Even the fact that it was cold did little to deter me from trying to enjoy it. I tried, but by the end of the sandwich I didn’t feel as if I had eaten a thing. Mind you, I’m not commenting on the size, rather this was a rare food occasion where it was neither bad nor good. Except for my expanding waistline it was as if I had never eaten it. The sandwich was so incredibly ho-hum that it might not ever had existed. An absolutely useless meal; not so bad that I could feel bad for eating it, nor was it nourishing in any way.

With such a non-sandwich having confused my palate, I knew that I needed to quickly reacquaint my senses to what a beef sandwich could be. Good or bad, it didn’t matter – just as long as it was there. With that in mind I knew there was no way I was going to be disappointed about any torta.

With the Day of the Torta finally upon me, I headed straight to Taqueria Castillo and ordered myself up a carne asada. Upon unwrapping it, I was immediately rewarded. The smell was sensational with a sort of smoky, toasty feel. The bread was soft and messy in that forgivable way. Pieces of the sandwich fell off, out and into the chips that came with. The carne asada itself was great and the inclusion of lettuce and tomato chased away any lingering Kinder’s (non) memories. But the real kicker was that the bread had been grilled with the cheese in direct contact with the flat top. This preparation thoroughly melted the cheese and gave the torta a real presence.

The torta turned out to be exactly what I had been looking for; made with thoughtfulness in an assertive way. Since I’ve stayed away from other Northern California tortas, I don’t know if they’re usually prepared in this manner, but now at least I know there are some good one’s out there. In the end, I suppose any messy and delicious sandwich would have been too difficult to eat at a baseball game anyways; it would have cost twice as much and I would have dropped half of it onto the floor. Maybe Kinder’s did get it half-right after all.