From the Hat

It’s Friday so you know what that means, RAIN!  Officially, Texas is no longer in a drought and I think Ian and I deserve credit.  If anyone were to look back, I think you see a pattern of Tacotopia = rain.  It could be worse; an association with pestilence or IRS audits would suck.  I’m not going to make light of the dude that flew the plane into the IRS building in Austin recently.  As far as I’m concerned, he’s a murderer.  But it does make one pause and take note that you better watch out because those crazy old white guys aren’t taking any shit.

Plane, building, smoke rising into the air – this is an event I wish I didn’t find familiar.  He was pissed at the IRS, the GM bailout, and shifty, do-nothing, on-the-tit politicians.  Okay, I can go there, but flying your Piper into the IRS takes Falling Down to a whole new level.  This guy had more Wacka-Do to him than the old Roger Miller tune.  Did he just snap?  Upon reaching his middle age crisis did he say, “Hmm, should I buy a new Corvette or fly my plane into the IRS building?”  I’d like to say it’s an isolated event, but I’m more inclined to say it’s an archetype buried somewhere in our collective unconscious.  It pops up in the real world in the likes of Ted Kaczynski and in the media in the movie Network.  Whether it’s untreated mental illness, or true madness, the effects are the same – death, destruction, and sadness.  For me, I plan on buying the Corvette.

But for now, I’ll settle for breakfast tacos – good breakfast tacos that is.  Ian and I tacoed up at El Sol de Mexico this morning.  I have to say the place was a bright shining difference from its previous life as Elva’s.  I had coffee before I ordered it and it was good.  I ordered a nopalitos con huevos and a machacado con huevos from the fairly extensive menu.  The nopalito taco was full, flavorful, and they didn’t skimp on the cactus.  The red salsa added a smoky accent that went well with the taco.  As nopalito tacos go, it was up there, but San Luis still sets the bar for this particular taco.  The machacado taco was surprising.  There was much more carne seco in this taco than you usually find.  It needed salt, but other than that was tasty, with just enough tooth to the beef.  I’m not usually a big fan of Ranchero sauce, but I have to admit it added to the machacado experience.  Both tacos were on very good flour tarps.  For all of those Elva’s fans, look closely at the menu, a Destroyer by any other name is still a Destroyer.

Salud

From the Hat

So I’m sitting here, tryin’ to do justice to the Tacotopia reputation for quality blogging.  Waiting for inspiration – a lightning bolt of creativity that will spur me into something enjoyable to write and hopefully enjoyable to read.  I guess another lightning bolt is too much to ask even though todo el mundo knows that I’ve done my fair share of provoking in the past.  What I did get is a screaming refrigerator.  It’s a small, aged thing hangin’ in there way past its prime.  It screams just often enough to let us know that it’s sick and tired of the daily grind and wants to retire.  These kinds of things run in gangs.

A lightning strike at the ranch seems to have fried a fuse in a transformer.  It’s damaged the refrigerator in the barn, the starting electronics for the well pump (and maybe the pump itself), and while all of the power leaves the pole, only half of it shows up in the barn.  This means a short buried in the earth somewhere like some cruel hidden treasure.  Thanks Thor.  The frozen, then burst pipe above what we call the Bed and Breakfast could mean that the Thunderer wasn’t alone, in fact I’m guessing both the lightning and the freeze resulted from a clandestine quicky with Skadi.  They must have arrived simultaneously because the burnt circuit kept the pump from pumping water out of the burst pipe for the couple of weeks we weren’t out there.   It’s a good thing I don’t believe in luck because I wouldn’t know whether this was an example of good luck or bad.

We got Serendipity limping along.  The cistern is full of water so we can get by for a while without the well.  We had a repairman out for the fridge and a C+note got it running again…for about a week.  We went out a couple of weeks ago to find that it was again no bueno.  Now I’m thinking that we picked up something at the ranch and brought it home.  Sunday’s preparation for Monday’s work was halted by a loud grinding noise and the smell of smoke from the washer.   Through the convenience of the Internet, and Craig’s List, Shell found a good deal and we picked it up.  The faucets behind the washer were so old, that upon being closed and opened again after installation of the washer, one of them leaked so badly that I expected a little Dutch Boy would be pounding on my door soon.  As Shell says, “It’s never easy.”  I’ll be going to Plumber’s Warehouse to get a new hopefully higher-quality faucet because the new, apparently lower-quality one I got from the home depot developed a slow leak from the handle the minute I put it on.  But at least it works and I had clean clothes for today’s taco run.

It was just the Tacoteurs today at Santa Rosa this morning.  The place is big, but cozy on a cold day.  I arrived shortly before Ian, picked a comfortable booth by the window and ordered coffee.  By the time Ian had arrived, I’d decided on the chicharrones a la Mexicana on flour and a barbacoa con cilantro y cebollas on homemade corn.  The corn tort was smaller than the flour but well-stuffed with a decent barbacoa.  The onions and cilantro were fresh and with the addition of the hot salsa, the taco was a winner.  The chicharrones in the other taco were of the airy pork-rind-in-a-bag variety.  Not my favorite kind, but dense enough to have a bite.  There was plenty of egg and again the vegetables were fresh.  The wait staff was on constant coffee patrol, ready with a good café-fresh Joe for your plastic cup. I might have to go check this place out for lunch.

$#!+, there goes the fridge again!

Salud

Usually I joke about the dangers of breakfast tacos – cholesterol, blah, blah, blah.  But not this morning.  Today I felt the danger in that singular, crystal-clear way that the rabbit must feel in the presence of a bobcat.  Struck tharn, wanting more than anything to move but unable to, knowing that he’d be seen.  My worry was that I’d already been seen.  Traffic had me pinned in behind the Bakery and I was being seriously-eyeballed.  Eyeballed in that very threatening way that makes you bow your head and look askance so the big Silverback doesn’t knock the shit out of you.   I locked the doors and waited for the traffic to clear; very aware of the two approaching eyeballers and feeling a bit vulnerable, armed with only my whitebread sensibilities.  The traffic cleared just as they got to the car and I didn’t wait around to see what they wanted.  For a few minutes, life was crystal clear. Missing was the calliope that usually inhabits my head.  There was no worrying about what I’m doing when I should be doing something else.  No worrying about time, about deadlines, about schedules, people, or meetings. Nothing. Just silence.  And awareness of life.  It was exhilarating.  Like jumping out of an airplane.  It wasn’t long before the ride was over and the calliope was running at full steam. Unlike the City Bakery.

What a dump!  I’m having a hard time with metaphors, but it might be like the proverbial truck stop queen.   If you look close enough, look back in time, through the grime, you can see what she was in her heyday; Heart of the neighborhood, vibrant and full of life.  People lined up around the block to sample her wares.  Now the lines are on her face and the people around the block are a weird mix of young boys saggin’ their khaki school pants and hoodlums of the scary clan.  The run-down restaurant had a limited taco menu.  I had a chorizo and egg and a picadillo, both on flour.  The C&E was so-so and the picadillo not that good.  The salsa was a watery red.  It had a bit of heat, but mostly like canned tomatoes.  The coffee was hot (heat hot) and refills were not convenient.  The tortillas, though were very good and definitely the star of the taco, but not of the taqueria.  That honor goes to the biscuits.  They were soft and held together in a perfect way.  Not too dense, not falling apart.  They didn’t need butter at all but were of course slathered with it.  A must if you find yourself in the City Bakery.  It looked like they had a pretty good assortment of fresh pan dulce, too.  Shell and I had a total of three tacos, a coffee and a biscuit for $4.25.  They definitely know their market.

Thanks again to Don Dee for his enlightening conversation on old-time CC.  You have a way of description that makes one able to feel some of what the city was like, what the people were like – bringing to life the history of the city like no one else I know.

C/S