Write, delete, write, delete. Should I write about religion? No, irrelevant. Should I write about politics? No, too depressing. How about the weight issue here in Corpus Christi? How about not, keep the readership in mind. Should I rant or should I praise. Blah blah blah blah. It’s enough to drive a person up a wall. I can only imagine it’s even worse for you, dear reader, as you sit trying to decide where to go for tacos.

Today’s spot was recommended by Jim Halk. He apparently had no trouble deciding for us, an enviable quality in a citizen of Tacotopia as is his taste in taquerias. I was told by someone I’ve known since childhood the ancients recommended making a decision within the space of seven breaths. I think he ripped it from Ghost Dog, who in turn ripped it from Hagakure. In any case  using this metric I have failed at everything I’ve done today except for one thing: ordering tacos. I get the same thing every Friday, in order that I may establish an apples to apples comparison between every taco shop in Corpus. Finally, progress!!!

And once the crack appears in the Ice it’s just a matter of prying the rest of it apart. The words start to flow, the tension eases, the arrayed obstacles start to fall like dominos. If only there were fewer of those first steps. I ordered a Chorizo and Egg, and a Carne Guisada, and coffee. Oh yea, coffee, that helps with the indecision thing too. With a little caffeine in me the haze has lifted enough to make some observations about the place – and to quit being so damned meta. Alteño #3 is stucco and tile, and you can imagine it is in Mexico if you squint your eyes right.

It’s comfortable, not immaculate (that usually means the food is better) but clean, the service is pretty good. It’s in an older part of Corpus, near where my mother lived as a child, and I think that makes the food taste that much better with just the thought of her proximity, even if it was half a century ago. That isn’t the only thing that makes the tacos here good. The tortillas are good, with a little flour on the surface. The Carne G is a good texture, springy and dense but yielding to the tooth, and the gravy is bold but not argumenative. The Chorizo & Egg is just about a perfect balance of the two even though the chorizo itself is probably no different than that used by half the taco shops in town, and the whole thing has a nice mellow flavor that gets attention but doesn’t have to ask for it. The tacos came with ranchero sauce, and the pretty waitress asked if we wanted any other salsa, to which we of course replied yes. She brought out two red salsas – one had a chili pepper flavor and the other was more fresh with cilantro and the Hat says oregano. All this and good company resulted in a decision: I like this place. I’ll be back.

Oh, and we spotted this on the way out – ya gotta love Corpus.

From the Hat

Sometimes I question my sanity.  For instance, I’ve been trying to read the same book now for years.  A classic, the virtues of which are extolled by many a pointy-head.  You know, one of those books that you hear about for most of your life, and know you should take a look, but just never got around to it.  I decided at a Half-Priced Books one day that I was going to read Ulysses, by James Joyce.  I’ve read Homer’s Odyssey many times in several translations, and it’s always a good read – an adventure story of mythical proportions (literally).  It’s a flowing tale that is not hard to understand and it’s easy to put yourself in the milieu.  O Brother, Where Art Thou was based loosely on the story, there’s a musical interpretation by a heavy metal band and “between a rock and a hard place” and  “She carries a torch for him” are 3200 year old sayings from the Odyssey that still work today. [Don’t forget the Steely Dan song ‘Home At Last’ -TSH]

Ulysses is a whole other matter.  I’ve started it over a dozen times.  I’m currently at page 41, a record for me.  Lately, I pick it up before bed and try to get a page or two done.  For me, this thing doesn’t flow.  It’s not easy to understand, and I have a hard time identifying with any of the characters.  Still I nightly ram my head against the prose expecting it to suddenly become clear and make sense.  Isn’t that insanity?

Some have said I’m crazy because I can’t seem to stay out of school, and I’m beginning to agree with them.  University studies have always been for the most part, easy.  Not this time.  Daily, I bang my head against the science expecting it to suddenly become clear.  But In fact, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something in common with the Joyce novel.  Am I just getting old?  Is my current difficulty with Ulysses and University just the way of things?  I hope not.  I’m not one to crawl under a shawl in a rocker on the porch – rocking and talkin’ the weather.  So I probably won’t give up on either of my nemesis tasks.  I’ll just have to sprinkle some easy things to do into the mix.  Like Taco Friday’s feast with friends.

And this Friday was easy.  We heard the siren call of Alteno #3 this morning.  The first suitor was a beef fajita taco on a corn tort.  The beef was good and the lettuce, tomatoes and jalapeños were fresh, but the tort was the star.  Thin, yet resilient, and very full of warm corn flavor.  The other taco was a knockout – it snuck into the party dressed as an ordinary taco, and proceeded to wipe out even the memory of the previous poser from my pallet.  Piernas they called it (hog leg). It was roasted, then fried maybe?  Anyway, it was great and I had to have a few to go for those at the office.  It also was served with lettuce and tomato, but on a respectable flour tarpolean.  All of the three salsas were pretty good.  Let’s see what else I can ease my way into this weekend.

Salud

The neighbor on the other side is the Sea Gulf Villa, home of some of the most interesting characters in the area – if you know what I mean.  To some extent Brandy’s has a captive clientele and even has a side door that leads into the courtyard of the ‘Villa.’ Downtown is a hard place to make a business work (believe me, I know) but Brandy’s has been around since 2006.  Before that it was where Dragonfly was hatched before moving to the island and ultimately to their new location on SPID about a mile further South.

You’ll find this place infused with Catholic kitsch and a DIY aesthetic. Piecemeal signage decorates the front of the restaurant, and anytime you walk in you’re likely to find Brandy herself doing the cooking, with a slightly troubled look behind her omnipresent smile. There’s every indication that she has put her heart and soul into this restaurant, as well as all of her time and resources. That said you should realize my opinion of this place is not unbiased. I want her to succeed, I want her to grow into other locations – namely Portland, but there is no hyperbole in my exaltation of Brandy’s tortillas which are transcendent. Made in house by hand every few orders they come to the table so hot from being cooked that you’ll burn your fingers trying to handle them. They couldn’t be more fresh, period.

The carne guisada was pretty good, and needed no salt. The hat didn’t like the salsa but I did – it reminded me of chíle I’d had many mornings in Dallas sitting around the Palafox table, with eggs and tortillas, and serranos from the the plant in the back yard. Heavy on the garlic salt, tomato sauce, and fresh peppers roasted on cast iron and crushed in a mocajete. The chorizo and egg had the perfect interplay between warring chorizo & egg factions – with both trying to stay independent but at the same time working to infiltrate the other.  The coffee was hot, fresh, and plentiful, as was the company. Over the course of the meal three people we know, each one a beach bum for life, stopped in just to say hi. It was as if there were a little pocket of good will inside Brandy’s that overwhelmed my normal distrust and cynicism and left me thinking the world isn’t hopeless.  I can feel it wearing off as the tacos are even now being digested, and the feeling like the tacos will pass on.

There was a theme that ran through our conversations, and through everything else that has followed this morning – that of imperfection and how it punctuates beauty. There’s the Texas coast blogged about by friend of tacotopia Joy. There’s the taco award winner this week who’s insanity and ability to overcome it is much more impressive than someone who’d ended up in the same place without having to travel to get there. There’s Brandy’s, which is rough around the edges and falls short of some of the nicer taco shops in Corpus in terms of polish but has all the heart of any place out there, and you’d be hard pressed to find a better chorizo & egg.

Barbacoa with a fried egg on top!

I just wanted to give y’all a bit of time to let that settle in your brainpan before I went on.  Ms. M. put the demon seed in my head to order this monster.  It must have been Mary Shelley she was reading on her new iPatty.  I don’t know but it was definitely Evil Genius.  There was onion and cilantro, but protein definitely ruled this taco.  I usually order my fried egg fried hard, but I decided that messy might be in order and ended up with over-easy.  Mess was right.  Halfway through, the tortilla was showing serious wear.  Not to dis the tortilla at all.  It was superb.  Made fresh with just a little sprinkling of flour on the outside.  Delicious.  But it was a mess.  Next time, and yes, I’m sure there’ll be a next time, I’m goin’ with fried hard.  The barbacoa itself was Tacotopia average.  Hard to separate the barbacoa from the liquid chicken, so I’ll just say I’ll have to try the barbacoa by itself before passing judgement.  But as a partner in crime with the egg, it was excellent.

There had been a crowd waiting to get in…again, and I could smell bacon from the street.  Funny, even the streets of D-town are better with bacon.  So I was optimistic.  I’d heard good things and that location seems to have some magic in it. It’s been the home to many excellent places to eat over the decades.  I guess TSH had been to Brandy’s many times – me, two.  The first time was on the highly rated and internationally acclaimed Spam Edition.  For only an instant did I consider a reprise of that event, but I settled on a chorizo and bean.  The chorizo and bean I’m beginning to discover is a good indicator.  Both are aggressive flavors and getting them to play nice without losing themselves in one another is hard to do.  Brandy’s beans bellowed, “Bacon!”  Bacon and Chorizo…Hmm.  I think there’s potential there.  Anyway, Brandy’s bacony beans faced down chorizo’s frontal assault ’til the very end.  The chorizo was good.  It didn’t jump up at me screaming “I’m the best chorizo you’ve ever had,” but those moments are infrequent.  At first, I thought the taco was a tad tiny.  But that was because it was hanging around with that fat barbacoa taco.  Once into it, I knew that any more of the dense beans and chorizo in that baby and I’d have to forgo eating for the weekend.

The good food was interrupted for brief moments with conversation.  The topics ranged from lamenting the loss of the greatest generation, to that nightmare in the gulf.  And the whole breakfast experience was punctuated with visits from friends Sawyer Ron and the Cool Breeze.  I wish I could have stayed and had another cup of Brandy’s cafe good Joe, but I was in a hurry.  If someone captured me and threatened me with torture, I might say the weak link was the salsa.  It was fresh, but mostly tomato had absolutely no heat.  Good Breakfast.

Salud