The rape and pillaging of Mexican and Texan food.
August 26th, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | no responses
"Taco stands probably have germs. Let's go to Casa Ole."
Next time you visit a Mexican Restaurant, skim through the menu, and look for these two key words.
“Soft” and/or “Crispy”
If you see these words, politely leave. If you’re a polite person, that is.
This may seem extreme, but please realize that this means that everything on this menu is going to consist of these ingredients, and nothing else:
- Ground Beef
- Lettuce
- Tomatoes
- Refried Beans
- Rice
- Cheese
- Fried chips
- Pickled jalapenos
Please look at these ingredients, and think of all the restaurants that serve absolutely nothing but different combinations of these ingredients, aside from pseudo-margaritas made with Jose Cuervo and “sweet and sour mix” that will burn a hole in your stomach lining. Don’t get me started on Señor Cuervo.
I’d cite examples, but shit, you know what I mean. Each of these ingredients are dirt cheap, and since this has been the standard for “Mexican” restaurants for about twenty years, it is your duty as a consumer to stop eating there.
Keep making these people rich, and they’ll keep shutting down taco stands by shoveling the same boring ingredients down your gullet.
The good news:
Great Mexican food is abound!
Tacos El Mapache
August 18th, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | 2 responses
A large raccoon advertises tacos for El Mapache.
I took a spin outside of the West Loop Sunday morning on my way to work to scope out some taco joints. This area has a large South American population, so you’ll find a combination of taquerias, taco stands and pupuserias. What is a pupuseria, you may ask? A place to get pupusas, of course. But I’m not here to eat those.
I pinpointed a few prospective taco eateries, and plugged them into my cell phone. Bleep, bloop. The majority of the places I found were around the intersection of Renwick and Gulfton.
I headed to my part-time gig at Top Gun Range, and noticed that my fellow foodie friend Eugenio was there. Outstanding. This means my chances of eating bullshit for lunch will be greatly reduced.
Eugenio had some old college friends in town, and they had no lunch plans.
Tacos are their lunch plans now, I explained.
We all sat down and E. ordered for us. I never have a problem with this, because if someone orders for the group, it probably means they’re buying. He ordered three tacos al pastor, three chicharrones tacos, three chicken tacos,and three lengua tacos. This guy is a Spartan.
The friendly waitress, relieved that there was a Spanish speaker among us, brought us each a small bowl of excellent frijoles (gratis). The corn chips were thick and were sprinkled with a red powder, and there were two salsas, a bright orange salsa rojo and a fiery green sauce.
Then the tacos arrived, and man, they sure looked good. All of the tacos had a big pile of fresh and finely cut cilantro and onions. The corn tortillas were not homemade, which was a bit disappointing, but it occurred to me that if they were to make all of these tortillas on the spot, it would have taken a long time to make. Also, I knew the impressive salsa would go well with each and every one of these. Here’s a short summary:
I'm revising history. Food of the gods= nectar, ambrosia, tacos.
- al Pastor – Well seasoned, but not too much marinade, so you could really taste the pork. It had a barbacoa-like consistency.
- Chicharrones – Folks keep telling me how good well-made chicharrones tacos taste when done right. I’ve never enjoyed them, so I guess they’re just not for me. It’s just a bunch of orange greasy chunks of fat. Eugenio and I decided that they had probably pulled it from the menudo pot. These could be good chicharrones tacos for all I know. I just don’t like them.
- Pollo (chicken) – It was a little dry, but still enjoyable. Once I dumped a bunch of that green salsa on them, they were fantastic. I always prefer red salsa on beef and green salsa on chicken.
- Lengua – This was fantastic and unique. Their lengua had the same barbacoa texture and consistency, a bit more substantial. That bright orange salsa went with them perfectly.
If you’re eating tacos, and something seems to be missing, squirt lime juice all over them. Hell, squirt lime juice on them before you take your first bite. If you don’t have enough limes, let them know.
We devoured these tacos like the true barbarians we are, and then we went to the range and fired automatic machine guns. After all, it was Sunday.
Matamoros Meat Market #4
August 16th, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | one response
The painting above the cooked-food section of the meat market exemplifies a new art movement: Awesomism.
So I’m headed to Job #2 at Top Gun Range Saturday morning, and I realized it has been almost 12 hours since I’ve had a taco.
“Where do I get a taco around here?” I briefly thought to myself. Then I had a secondary thought to myself: “I’m right down the street from Chimney Rock, dumbass”.
Heading south on Chimney Rock, you’ll find somewhat of a taco emporium the moment you cross Highway 59. Although this street isn’t lined with taco stands like it was a few years ago, you’ll find a lot of great little taquerias. If you shop around on this street late at night, you will find some danger as well as awesome tacos. But danger is good for you, and if you happen upon the taco stand in front of The Corona Club late at night, you’ll have a memorable experience. But that ‘s another story.
I came across two venerable taco establishments next door to one another: Taqueria Mi Ilusion and Matamoros Meat Market #4.
I typed a (proprietary) taco equation into my custom-built device (Thanks, Texas Instruments). Matamoros Meat Market #4 was the answer.
Barbacoa on the left, tripas on the right.
I knew when I walked in that this was exactly what I was looking for. I was in the mood for a huge bowl of menudo, as well as some tacos.
The menudo didn’t look wonderful. I can generally tell how much I’m going to enjoy a bowl of menudo by looking at it. I like a bright red menudo broth, and this was orange.
Although tripas (fastidously prepared bovine intestines) are not normally my first choice, I could tell that this was one of their specialties. It looked amazing.
Also, I couldn’t turn down the barbacoa because you just can’t leave a carniceria without trying their barbacoa or you will probably get in a knifefight with someone.
At the counter, there was a bike horn taped to the counter. That is, a horn that you can honk if no one is attending the meats.
Aside from the standard fare of carnicerias, there was a fine selection of awesome Mexican comic books. If only I wasn’t in such a hurry.
Tripas and Barbacoa.
As I expected, the menudo was pretty lame. Menudo is traditionally only available on weekends, and is best on Saturdays for some reason. This was like getting Sunday menudo on Saturday. This only makes sense to me, I suppose.
However, I’m really glad I picked it up because one of my coworkers had a moderate hangover which was “completely cured” when I served him a cup of this stuff.
The tripas tacos were outstanding, as well as the barbacoa. I was a little disappointed in the red salsa, and the lady behind the checkout counter assured me that there were limes in the bag, although there were none. Altogether, a fantastic breakfast. I ended up spending ten bucks, but only because I was completely overzealous and bought too much food.
Note: Oddly enough, there is a second, semi-famous Matamoros Meat Market #4 in The Heights.
La Carreta
August 15th, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | 4 responses
This place has been here since 1973, which is why any long-time Heights resident will recommend it. No matter what their age, they’ve been eating here since ________.
“I’ve been eating here since ________”, I’ve realized, is not so much of a recommendation towards the fine cuisine of an establishment, but more of a testament to the person recommending it.
There are a lot of places I enjoyed dining at as a teenager. Going back to these places to eat several years later, I’ve realized that you can come to one of the following conclusions:
A: This place has really gone downhill since I ate here years ago.
B. Since I got out of said hometown, I learned what good food really is.
But some folks (and probably most folks) never leave their hometown and alas, they still think that the Mexican restaurant in their neighborhood is top-notch.
La Carreta is that place.
I stopped there Friday evening, and parked next to a dude sleeping in his car. Which is fine with me, because his car was running. In Houston, in August, in the daytime, if someone is sleeping in their car and it is not running, he is not sleeping.
I ordered a lemonade. For some reason, some areas in the Houston Heights are dry. As much as the ‘dry area’ concept pisses me off, it is probably a good thing for some areas of the Heights. Like most legitimate Mexican-owned establishments, the limonada was fantastic, and made with real lime juice. To clarify, if you order lemonade in a real Mexican restaurant, you’ll probably get limeade. Which is a good thing.
Have you ever used Rotel tomatoes from a can? If you have, perhaps you poured out the juice before you used the Rotel tomatoes for your purpose. What ever happened to that juice, you may ponder? I can tell you. It’s right here, and I’m dipping my tortilla chips in it, here at La Carreta.
I had been told that this place had some great lengua tacos. Seeing as the place didn’t have lengua tacos on their menu, I realized that the person who told me that probably hadn’t eaten here in a decade or two.
Unfortunately, La Carreta only has two types of tacos on their menu, crispy and soft. It is important to know that if you see the word “crispy” or “soft” on any Mexican restaurant menu, you’re already screwed; unless of course, you’ve been eating there for the past ten years. (I’ll get into that later in another post.)
I ordered from the “House Specialties” section, and got the Carnitas Rancheras, which consists of fried pork, smothered with a spicy tomato salsa. Complete with rice and beans. I also ordered a crispy beef taco for the hell of it, even though I knew what to expect. My companion ordered a combination plate with cheese enchiladas.
I don’t normally getting anything “a la ranchera” unless I’m getting huevos rancheros. It’s okay to dump a bunch of chunky peppery sauce on bland items like fried eggs, but if you order something that you’re intended to taste, such as seafood for example, you’re going to drown it in this stuff and you won’t taste anything.
The pork chunks were slow-roasted, seasoned well and very tender, and I enjoyed it. However, my companion, a gorgeous blonde vixen of perfect proportions, told me that the cheese enchiladas “tasted like single-slice Kraft and sweaty balls”.
She then asked me why everyone eating there was weird looking. This bothered me at first. “Who could be so insensitive?”, I thought. Until I looked around and saw that most of the dining audience was utilizing some sort of motorized ambulation.
Another thing that bothered me was, although the temperature of the room didn’t seem to be terribly hot, I was burning up. Now I’m not one to complain about temperature, partly because everybody else does. But I was sweating.
I had a brick wall to my left, and realized that the wall was hot to the touch. Apparently I had chosen the wall opposite of the oven in the kitchen, and the brick wall was the only thing separating me from the inside of the cooking oven. By the time I figured it out, I was ordering boxes for the rest of our uneaten dishes.
If you like Casa Ole and Los Tios, you may like La Carreta. The one outstanding thing about La Carreta is, the prices are really low. I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it was 8 bucks. Most of the menu items were around $5 . If you’re not concerned about Mexican authenticity, you can’t beat the value here.
Cocina de Colima, part Dos.
August 13th, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | one response
Last Sunday evening, after an exciting day working at the range, I stopped at one of my favorite beer joints and came across a friend of mine, James H.
James can put away some tacos.
James was raised in Laredo, TX, and though his Spanish sucks, he has a healthy respect for real tacos. I was astounded by his taco knowledge when we first met a few months back in Houston. I mean, this gabacho knows tacos better than most Mexican-Americans I know.
So we stopped by Cocina de Colima (Colima’s Kitchen), one of my favorite taco joints in town. I ordered one taco al pastor , the Combos Mixtos plate, and Ceviche Colima, their trademark ceviche on a tostada. And a pair of Tecates, of course.
Everything was amazing, including their bright orange salsa. James didn’t play around with the other items on the menu. He ordered a variety of tacos. Here is a short video clip of my reaction.
From what I understand, Colima, Mexico is arguably one of the most beautiful places in Mexico. Many taco stands take their name from Colima’s northern neighbor, Jalisco.
Ceviche de Colima
I couldn’t get over the taste of the ceviche. The picture doesn’t do it justice- it was just fantastic.
If you order guacamole, they won’t give you that tired stuff you’ll get at chain restaurants. It’s the real thing, and if you’ve ever had the ‘make guacamole at your table’ experience at a nice Mexican restaurant, it’s the same thing. Except it doesn’t cost fifteen bucks, and they don’t make it at your table.
As I’ve mentioned before, their tacos al pastor are some of the best in the Bayou City.
Although the language barrier can be an issue for non-Spanish speakers, the wait staff is really friendly and helpful. Also, it makes it easy to order when there are pictures of all the food items on the wall. As long as you can just point at what you want (and say “Tecate”), you’ll be in good shape.
The manager’s a great guy, and if he’s around, he’ll introduce himself to everyone at your table.
The menu's on the wall.
Next time you’re on Fountainview, be sure to check out this spot. Cocina De Colima is located on Fountainview, just north of 59. And if you run into James H, buy him cold Tecate.
Colima, Mexico. That Rhode Island looking thing right under the state of Jalisco.
Corn tortillas vs. flour tortillas.
August 6th, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | no responses
Simple. Always choose corn tortillas if you want a real taco.
If you’re a gringo, they’ll ask, “Harina o maiz”, (flour or corn?), because they think you want flour tortillas. If you’re not a gringo, they’ll say, “Maiz o harina”?
If you have trouble remembering the difference between “harina” or “maiz” then you are a gringo, so pick the one they don’t think you want. The second one. The good stuff.
Maiz (mah-yeez)
A few exceptions can be made. If they’re not making the corn tortillas right there in front of you, and they pull the tortillas out of a Fiesta bag, and the flour tortillas ARE homemade, then you may consider flour.
You also have the option of threatening the non-corn tortilla making lady with a Jarritos bottle until they learn how to make corn tortillas.
I am not advocating violence toward taco stand employees in any way, shape or form.
That is, unless they are not making fresh corn tortillas from scratch.
Taqueria Mi Jalisco
August 5th, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | one response
I started heading Northwest. Ended up on Fulton, then just kept cruising until I found a taco stand. It was a hot day, and I was kicking the Reggae Show on KTRU.
If the taco mecca is on Irvington, the taco graveyard is on Fulton. I found close to a dozen taco establishments that had closed down, including a Taco Zone, Taco Town, and Taco Loco (The Taco Loco was barely open).
When I got to Berry Street, I found a king-size, super shiny black taco truck called “Tacorrey”, which advertised “Sabor del Norte” or “Taste of the North”. I walked up to the front, and the owner was hanging out with a police officer. I waited at the front window for a few seconds and reviewed the menu. Nobody came to take my order, so I hit the bricks.
Walking back to my car, I saw a small white taco stand that glimmered in the sun like a Los Tucanes CD hanging from a rear-view mirror. It’s amazing that every huge taco truck has a smaller, better, and cheaper taco truck nearby.
Those aren't sunbeams. A good taco truck always looks like this.
I ordered three tacos; a suadero, a longaniza, and of course the al pastor. I tried to use my best Spanish, but since I was drooling all over myself, she had a hard time understanding me at first.
These were served with key limes, a grilled jalapeno, and a magnificent sweet grilled caramelized onion.Total cost was $3. Fantastic.
I’d like to go into a long, drawn out explanation of what suadero is and act like I already knew, but instead I found a blog by a fella named Ian Froeb who figured it all out for me. In other news, there are tacos in St. Louis. (Just kidding.)
Look, I stole Ian's cow chart.
This stuff is delicious. It was a little bit tough and charred (in a good way), and the fat content was significant. I knew on the first bite that I had a winner. This would be my favorite of the three tacos.
Next I had the longaniza. This meat is a lot like chorizo. This might sound awful on a taco by itself, but longaniza is more substantial than the chorizo you may have had in breakfast tacos. This was a good taco as well, though I wouldn’t want to eat more than one.
Then I got to the al pastor. I wasn’t happy with it, but when it comes to al pastor, I’m like one of those rock stars on The Smoking Gun with the 18-page backstage riders.
I’d like to add that these were not your ordinary double-stack corn tortillas. These weren’t processed into blandness like the tortillas you see in a grocery store. They were bright yellow, toasted, and tasted like corn. You know, like they’re supposed to.
The red salsa was oil-based, similar to the salsa found at La Mexicana on Montrose and Fairview. I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t crazy about it. The green stuff had a hummus-like texture, and had a “sink-in” spiciness that was nice and hot.
They were out of orange soda, so I ordered a coke. “Mexican Coke!” she said proudly, as she charged me the $2 gringo price. So Mexican Coca-Cola is made with real sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup. Big deal. But it is cool that you could crack a human skull with that Coke bottle without breaking it.
Then I realized that I had forgotten to take pictures of the tacos before I wolfed them down. Damn. I had to go back and buy some more suadero tacos so I could bring them home and take pictures for you.
Suadero tacos with key limes, grilled onion, jalapeno, cilantro, raw onions. Two bucks.
Soda Naranja (Orange/Mandarin Soda)
August 1st, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | 2 responses
When you visit a taco truck, ask for a “soda naranja”. Even if you don’t care for orange soda, understand that this is what real caballeros wash down tacos with when it’s too early to drink beer. It’s imperative for these few major reasons:
- This will effectively establish the fact that you know just WTF you’re talking about. This may keep them from putting lettuce and tomatoes on your tacos. If you walk away from a taco stand with lettuce and tomatoes on
your taco, I hate to break it to you, Ace- but you’ve failed.
- Orange soda goes great with genuine tacos.
- Because real tacos are chased with either cold beer or cold orange soda. That’s the way it is, and if you don’t like it, go to Casa Ole and drink a bunch of crappy honky margaritas that were composed with that artificial sweet and sour stuff that kiddie popsicles are made of, and while you’re at it, enjoy some crispy ground-beef pseudo-tacos that might consist of floor scraps purchased from the Alpo factory.
- It tastes a lot better than the US version of orange soda
- The thick glass and large bumps on the neck of the bottle are designed to make it an optimal weapon, in the case someone should try to take your taco or salsa from you.
Disclaimer: If anyone reading this happens to be from somewhere other than Texas or California, I understand that quasi-Mexican food can be very palatable, and you may not even have access to a Taco Bell. I love this country, and every night I think of you and weep, swallowing the fact that many of my fellow Americans may never experience real tacos. Or real salsa.
Damn.
I beg your pardon.
July 31st, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | one response
Since “Link Road” goes in several directions, I had a hard time finding The Rose Garden. It was recommended by an older fella named “Pee Wee” that I met at The Tall Texan the day before.
When I stepped in there, I realized that 29-95′s review of Rose Garden was very accurate, but much more positive than what you’ll see below.
This is similar to the barber shop you hated as a kid.
This place is small. Really small. I walked up to the bar and ordered a Miller Lite like a badass.
When I walked in, the crowd looked as if they had been there all day discussing what they would do when I got there.
Which would be understandable if I was dressed up like a woman this warm Wednesday evening, but I only do that on the first Tuesday of each month, so it was disconcerting.
The music was loud. Too loud for a country bar. It wasn’t country music, but some kind of country/Polish hybrid music that you might hear in New Braunsfels during a daytime festival.
For a moment, I was David Koresh holed up in a burning closet while the ATF blasted “Achy Breaky Heart”. It was true sonic warfare, and it worked.
I hate this place.
The C&F Drive Inn.
July 31st, 2009 in Tacos! by Jay | one response
The C&F Drive Inn is on North Main, just inside 610. I think they have about four kinds of beer in stock, which is really unnecessary because everyone is drinking Miller Lite.
Swanky.
You can get one beer for two dollars, or you can get a bucket of six beers for 12 dollars.
The bartender is a really sweet lady named Yolanda who has worked there for around 30 years. You will recognize her by her big hair and charming smile. She will keep serving you cold beers until you start trouble or fall down more than once. She will even put your beer in a koozie, with the logo of a local bail bonding company imprinted on the front.
Behind the bar you’ll see Bandito’s t-shirts for sale, and an autographed poster of a pre-Channel 2 newscaster Jennifer Reyna. Folks here say they’ve known her since she was a little girl, and they are all very proud of her accomplishments.
There is an internet jukebox, which is usually playing country, Tejano, or Ranchera music. If you see a local homeless guy that walks funny with a perpetual grin on his face, that’s Smiley. He picks up the place.
Out back is a patio area, where you’ll usually find someone named Albert or Roland barbecuing several chickens. And yes, they know exactly what they are doing. On the weekends, they often throw benefits for people in the neighborhood going through hard times.
It’s a good place to catch a game, and though the crowd might seem stand-offish at first, they’re a great bunch of folks. Oh, and if you happen to get here when there are a hundred motorcycles parked in front, then you just got there on the wrong day. Cruise down the street to Dan Electro’s or something.
The Channel 2 Traffic Lady.
