tacotopia

Most of the places we review, after going through our rigorous statistical analysis, end up with a grade of a high B or a low A.  Sometimes we’ll go weeks with each restaurant varying less than 2 percentage points from the prior weeks.  You might think we’re padding our data, that we’re engaged in some kind of tac-ola. I can assure you we’re not, and I’ll stick to that story until the FCC (F the FCC, by the way) comes to indict me.
I thought it would make sense to shed a little light on tacotopia’s rating system.  I modeled it after academic grades, the most familiar system I could think of. 90-100 is an A, 80-90 is a B, 70-80 is a C, anything else is unacceptable.  Here in the Texas Rivera our tacos are at a level that is so exceptional we can barely find a place that, judged objectively according to the most comprehensive and advanced statistical methodologies, isn’t really tasty.  Sometimes I think, they can’t all be so good – is there a problem with our instruments?  Is our math sound?  Then I try to get a taco out of town and I quickly realize Corpus Christi is the Breakfast Taco Capital of the World.
But I digress.

So Matt the Hoople and I are early, even after a stop at the gas station and a full check of the oil, coolant, tranny fluid, and a fill-up.  We opt to wait for the Hat inside, who showed up shortly with ‘Sea-Shell,’ his better half, who when averaged in brings the Hat’s score up pretty well in anybody’s book.

I didn’t really need a menu but I have to mention the menus at Las Milpas have huge photos of all the items with large print in black and gold. Blind people could read them from their heat signature. There are literally only four items on some of the pages, all laminated, and spiral bound.  They’re so heavy they should put a ‘team-lift’ label on the back.

And if that weren’t enough, then came the tacos.  The chorizo & egg, as well as the carne guisada, were a solid B.  Not great, but very tasty.  The salsa was good.  The food was out quickly (except for the Hat’s), and the coffee kept coming.  The real shining star were the tortillas – not only were the huge in diameter but they were thicker than the fog on the harbor bridge this morning.  Resembling few things more than a pancake, they were very tender and fairly light – almost a little cakey.  The outside of mine was pretty well toasted but you could hardly tell biting into it.

The place was clean, and the waitress adept.  We did have to struggle a bit in conversation to keep from being drowned out by the flat screen TVs adorning every wall.  At least they weren’t all tuned to Fox.

Shout out to Oscar Ramirez who put it in our heads that we should check this place out.  If you have any suggestions, and maybe some time free early Fridays, let us know and you might be selected as a special guest commentator.

From the Hat
Something Shelly said this morning got me to thinking.  She was busy with her huevos a la Mexicana when she said, “There REALLY are a lot of good taquerias in Corpus.”
She’s right, of course.  But it’s more than that.  Each one does the same thing in different ways and I’m always amazed by how different people like different things.  Two people can see the same movie, eat the same meal, hear the same band, and not agree on any of them.    I say, “Yay! New Star Trek Movie.”  But it gets a resounding “Boo” from my friend Thomas.  Sometimes someone’s in error, as is Thomas in this case, but mostly we have different priorities and those priorities shape how we experience something.  I won’t go deep into, nor linger long in movieland for fear of being squashed like a bug by those who dwell there.  So I’ll move it to the realm of breakfast tacos.  I purposely did not order the chicharron taco this morning.  This past weekend we went to Sonny’s where they have what I think are the best Chicarrones known to mankind.  I didn’t want the lingering memory of another taqueria to cloud my judgement as to the chicharrones at Las Milpas.  M. ordered a chicharron taco, however and I was curious how they were done.  Were they the airy, out-of-the-bag kind, or were they my favorite, the dense and crispy, deep-fried-on-the-spot kind?  Or were they the soft, braised-for-hours kind?  My point is that some like them soft, others not, some stewed, others fried, and still others that find the whole idea of eating pig skin (or barbacoa, or tripas, or mollejas) repulsive.  So what does my proclamation about how good the nopalitos and egg taco is mean to someone who finds the idea of eating cactus disturbing?  What are we doing when we meet Friday for tacos then (blab) blog about it?  Well, we’re visiting, and drinking coffee, and eating tacos.  And this morning is no exception.
Las Milpas was brightly lit and chilled to hang beef.  It was a first visit for me and thought I’d celebrate by ordering the barbacoa.  Unfortunately for me Las Milpas serves barbacoa only on Saturdays and Sundays so I opted for the lengua con cebollas y cilantro on a homemade corn tarp, and a nopalitos con huevos a la Mexicana on flour.  The flour tortilla was a sleeping bag-sized monster that if stuffed full would have taken a forklift to get off the plate.   It was distinctive in my experience, for its fluffiness.  The nopalito stuffing was good – with a load of eggs and a good mix of vegetables and cactus.  Good ingredients, I think, but no fireworks.  The lengua taco was on a smaller tortilla – thin and corny.  As homemade corn tortillas go, it was good, but not a home run.  The lengua, however was very good.  Tender, roasty…a pinch of salt made it a very respectable effort.  The salsa was delicious.  It was an interesting, not-green-but-not-red color not often seen in a salsa.   I found myself wanting something a bit hotter, but I think that might have been about me and not the salsa.  The coffee was café good and I knew right away that I could not keep up with the waitress’s coffee deployment regimen and just gave in to the idea of a perpetually-full cup of Joe.

So upon returning to Tacotopia, I got a taco first thing Monday morning (Garibaldi) and then again on Wednesday (Banda’s).  I couldn’t help myself – I wanted coffee and you can get a large coffee and a taco at world class taquerias blocks away from my job for the price of a coffee alone at Aqua Java or Starbucks.  Okay, the coffee is not as good as Aqua Java’s but it serves its purpose and the tacos rock.  So this morning the Hat, the Matt, and myself all met up on Airline at Acapulco Taqueria #1.  It’s in the 30s outside and wet.  The weather, in a word, sucks.  My heater core needs replacing in my truck so in the cold the windshield fogs up.  I’m driving down the road with one hand on the wheel and one hand wiping down the inside of the windshield.  Plus I have a toothache.  All of this in addition to the seasonal increase in my workload and the stress of the upcoming holiday.  It’s enough to make a man plow their vehicle into a fireworks stand while lighting a cigarette.

Good tacos, at least in this case, are the best medicine – well maybe some zoloft and a root canal, but who can afford it without health insurance? We sat down at the table and started drinking the excellent coffee, and I could feel the trouble being extinguished. Could it be things will all work out? Could the recession really be over? Could we exist in a world without poverty, war, and reality TV? I doubt it but at least I can take solace in one of the most perfect foods in existence, and I don’t mean the fabled eggnog custard pie.

Acapulco Taqueria is right near the two malls in Corpus Christi.  We’d heard about it for some time.  The place is hospital-clean the service is great.  There were a mix of cops and used car salesmen in attendance today, not a bad sign.  My carne guisada was good – nothing unusual about it but well made and very tender, no small relief to my aching jaw.  All this on good, thick, fresh flour tortillas.  I finished the carne g and moved on to the chorizo & egg, and it was exceptional: a perfect balance of grease, egg and sausage.

After 5 or 6 more cups of coffee and the exchange of weeks worth of tall tales the three of us lit out into the dim and dismal daylight, each one feeling a little bit better about what lay in store.

From the Hat

Hello, I’m The Hat and it’s been two weeks since my last breakfast taco.  I’ve long passed the grippin’ and jonesin’, and am beginning to get that attitude of superiority of one recently on the wagon.  Sure, you can do it the easy way, exiling yourself in a foreign land, like Ohio where they can’t even spell tako.  You couldn’t get a taquito if you wanted one.  Not me boy-o.  I did it the hard way, cold turkey, in the epicenter of taco activity.  Just me and my will power… and deep-fried turkey… and mince pie… and cornbread dressing.

I have to admit, on more than one occasion I found myself thinking about tacos, though.  Rehearsing in my mind that little peek inside the taco when it arrives at the table; watching my hands work on kinesthetic memory alone as they spoon a line of salsa down the middle and tuck it all back together; the prep finally complete.  Glad to be in company with fellow tacoteurs, but not really willing to share.

Relapse was but a text message away.  Two words:  “Taqueria Acapulco”.  I needed to call my sponsor, but it was from my sponsor.  I was lost.  I knew better than to put myself in that environment… the smell of tacos cooking, and of coffee, that easily obtainable breakfast gateway that always seems to lead down the path… to tacos.

Acapulco was a warm, dry place on a wet, cold morning.  It was brightly lit and smelled of cooking.  The Taco Show Host and M. were already there and had facilitated my breakfast with a cup of coffee.  After a look at the menu, I had decided.  But M. had noticed they were having a tripas special and ordered accordingly.  Not to be out-tacoed, I did the same.  Along with the tripas, I ordered a chicharrón con huevos a la Mexicana.  While we waited, we drank very good never-ending coffee and talked of the poor state of food in the Buckeye State.

When the tacos arrived, my tripas taco was splayed on the plate, guts spilled out like some breakfast tauntaun sacrificed for the nourishment of my body.  The tripas were perfect, clean and crispy.  Cut into lengths of an inch or so made them bite-sized and easy to manage.  They could only have been better with a fresh-made corn tortilla.  The flour torts were very good, though.  A bit of salsa, some cebollas y cilantro, and the taco had me wishing I’d another.  The second offering was good, but not a home run.  The chicharrones were the crunchy, bag-type and had plenty of bite to them.  There were plenty of them in the well-stuffed taco.  Both the spicy salsa, and the Ranchero sauce were good and added positively to the tacos.

As I look at the empty plate, I’m hoping to find just a little morsel that might have fallen out of the taco.  Surely I haven’t eaten them both already.  But I have and I’m left with nothing but the shame at having succumbed to the taco’s call once again.  I could see people looking down their noses at me already, and I’m uneasy at sight of the police car at the door when we exit.  What will my friends and family say about my return to the taco lifestyle?  Should I tell them?  But of course, this is a taco blog.

– Salud