I was walking into Tania's '33' on Grande last week when I noticed a sign out front that said: "Conquer the Mighty B.Rex!" It was black and white with an angry dinosaur that looked like it was downloaded off a clipart website. Written in the box below, a challenge:
"$14 gets you the biggest burrito we've ever offered stuffed with everything that's ever dreamed of being in a burrito: beans, rice, guacamole, sour cream, pico de gallo, cheese, roasted green chiles, lettuce, potatoes, and — of course — CARNE ASADA. Filling enough for a dinosaur, but made for a human. Get your claws around one today!"
Like most functional adults, I usually ignore these things. But something about this one struck me. Why would someone feel compelled to name a burrito after a dinosaur? And why are all the letters in "carne asada" capitalized, like they're a threat ...
Tania's has long been known for its grandiose burritos, and the owner's daughter Erica Lira told me they came up with the idea in October after they noticed people were staging their own eating contests with the extra large. (The customers were attending something called the "Terror Fest" at the time, so yeah.) It takes five tortillas to hold the B.Rex burrito in. You have 20 minutes to eat it, and if you win the battle, it's free.
This is still on the wall at Thunder Canyon Brewery in the Foothills Mall: My dad and I (with my brother in the background) after we were crowned Masters of Disaster for eating a dozen natural disaster hot wings.
I say this with a bit of apprehension, but I'm not exactly a stranger to eating contests. At the illustrious age of 12, I became Tucson's youngest "Master of Disaster" at Thunder Canyon Brewery. To earn the title you had to eat a dozen "natural disaster" hot wings that tasted like demon arms submerged in hot lava. (They've since gotten rid of the contest, and the wings aren't nearly as spicy.)
I'm also the "First Lady of Lindy's" after one disreputable night in college when I wolfed down the precursor to the famous OMFG burger because of a dare. Back then you had to eat the tater tots too. I know that Adam Richman is a vegan now and that these contests are totally vile. But hey, this one's for old time's sake!
Tania's 33 owner Rudy Lira (man or maniac?) says he's never weighed the thing. But giving the B.Rex a quick sizeup I'd say it's about as big as a newborn baby or a very large rabbit. It's all prettied up in scales made of tortilla chips and baby doll jalapeño eyes, but it is in fact a monster.
Honestly, when that thing came to the table I knew it was over. I'm not sure I've ever eaten that much in one sitting, nevermind in 20 minutes. It's so big you can barely cut it with a knife. The fillings spill out all over the plate and you have to pile them in your mouth as fast as you can without getting the hiccups. There was so much rice, it's haunting ...
I got about a third of the way through before I had to throw in the towel. I was utterly mangled, destroyed by a B.Rex ... Am I ashamed? Well, yes! Mostly because of what I did with the leftovers. But I guess I'm a little proud too, if you can call it that. Because who else can say they've come face to face with a 65 million year-old burrito, and lived to tell the tale?
The B.Rex burrito at Tania's 33 requires five tortillas to hold in all the carne asada.
