FRANKLY? The restaurant world is going mad. Consider this: I order a home delivery from Yu-ca-taco early on Friday evening. For Saturday night. By text of course.

And I get this reply: “Hiya, we close orders for delivery on Wednesday evening,” The man adds: “Bit of a weird business model, I know.”

Actually…nowadays, muchacho, it’s not that weird. The Ubiquitous Chip, for example, are taking orders now. For what looks like June delivery. Uh? It’s pretty much the same throughout the finer dining end of the market.

I try Cail Bruich. Apparently started taking orders on April 30. We are fully on it on May 1. Uh-oh, it’s booked out until mid August, according to their rather annoying website diary anyway. Actually, and after a glacial-speed email exchange, it seems earlier delivery slots will become available on Sunday evenings at 5pm. Seriously? Who can be bothered with all this? Are people sitting there saying: I fancy a home delivery in, oh September.

But back to the Yu-ca-taco textfest. After more messages I manage to persuade Liam (for that is apparently the Mexican food purveyor’s name) to squeeze me in for the very next day. They only have vegetarian platers left though.

Then they ping a text saying my delivery will be between 1pm and 3.30pm. Which I consider to be a weird time for dinner. And I say so in a text back. Guess what? It’s that other weird thing about lockdown home deliveries. We have to heat it ourselves.

So now I’ve ordered a vegetarian platter for three, which I don’t really want, delivered in the afternoon, which isn’t that convenient, which still has to be heated up and…fully assembled, which I really, really can't be bothered doing. And, yes, it’s a burrito. The lockdown taco apparently not yet having been invented.

Ever tried rolling your own burrito, hombre? Picture this: El Gringo Gordo at his dining table with a slow and steady stream of vegetarianess tumbling from a relentlessly springy unfolding tortilla growing into a masivo hillock on his plate. Sigh. A highly entertained 16-year-old sitting alongside, wondering why his old man can't roll a burrito like a First World War soldier could knock out a roll-up between shelling. Because he can.

Now, Yu-ca-taco. Yet another entry from the pop-up, food truck, down-with-the-kids-end of the planet which often carries the risk of, well, there’s no polite way to say this, amateur hour.

My bank, one of the worst on earth to be fair, certainly gets all steamed up at the money-transfer palavah and rejects it without telling me. But we sort that. Nevertheless, we secretly have some haddock, breadcrumbs and a frying pan standing by for emergencies.

Packaging? Today we are unwrapping mainly card and paper. So it arrives, it’s fridged, the words – “turn over for instructions, or don’t if you’re not the instructions type” – written in breezy, witty, relaxed tones at the very least have us all cooling the jets. Amazing what a few warm phrases can do.

Those actually very professional-put-together exhortations boil down to this: put it in the oven. Got it. Twenty minutes later we’re unflapping large corn burrito wraps, spooning onto them red rice with fresh coriander throughout it, bombing dollops of chipotle mayo and a vibrant salsa verde, alongside a salad that contains shredded cabbage, chunks of cheese and instructions to salt lightly and wait. Topping it is a thick stew of chickpea, black bean and red pepper and onions.

First impressions? And we all comment on this. It’s very fresh, popping with flavours, clearly not a single ingredient having been put in the package without somebody thinking about what it’s going to taste like at the other end. How often can we say that? The fact this is vegetarian turns out be irrelevant. It simply tastes very good. This is no amateur attempt. It’s proper food and we would order again.



Tel: 079235 89729


Menu: It’s Mexican and in a good way. The lockdown menu we had consisted of platters containing bean stew burrito (slow-cooked meat dishes also available if you’re quick) and a vegetarian starter of mushroom, green bean and squash.

Delivery: They’re really pre-cooked burrito kits which turn up at a time of your choosing (during the day) to be heated and assembled later. For three people including delivery it was a very reasonable £30.

Food: Everything in the burrito kit was clearly prepared with thought and flavour in mind resulting in a vibrant, extremely fresh burrito. Would order again. We were not so keen on the dreary-looking squash starter.