tacotopia

Taqueria Jalisco has used a classic technique to defend it’s place in the Corpus Christi food chain. Boasting ten Corpus locations on their website it’s not easy to find a spot in the metro area that isn’t 4 or 5 blocks from a Jalisco, and that’s just in Corpus. Jalisco’s reach must extend further as one of their CC locations is #19. We ended up at the first, Jalisco #1, this morning.  Dug in on Port, on the west side of Crosstown Fwy, Taqueria Jalisco sits between Carniceria Jalisco and the the Jalisco Bakery on both adjacent blocks like a cult compound. This is a neighborhood where you’d do well to live in a compound, though not nearly as dicey as some – and it’s caddycorner to the lot where the chicken trailer parks on weekends.  Opinion is mixed on the quality of Jalisco’s food. Some locals will tell you to avoid them, but they are always busy with full parking lots and drive-throughs. An inquiry directed toward the lady at the counter determined that this location had been open for around 25 years. That’s no small papas. They must be doing something right in order to survive that long.

the 'ladybug' presentation

The Hat and myself walked in the front door, half expecting to find a butcher greeting us with a blood-soaked apron and a cleaver. No such luck, it was nice, tidy, and clean. The waitress was on point, and we couldn’t go 2 minutes without her offering to refill our coffee cups. The tacos quickly arrived in the ‘ladybug’ formation. The chorizo & egg was not bad: dry but not too dry, without a strong flavor of chorizo but still quite serviceable.  The carne guisada was about the same – not bad, not great.  The flour tortillas weren’t standout but they came hot, fresh and soft.  The salsa was powerfully hot – and not at the expense of flavor.

The most impressive thing about the place is the signage, and not even the signage on the taqueria itself, but on the carniceria.  It is a work of art, flawless in its execution.  You see tags around this part of town but I could see no evidence that anyone had tagged that wall. Taggers are not entirely without respect for talent.

While we try to quantify the tangible qualities that make a place good or bad there’s so much that we can’t put our fingers on. Jalisco #1 is not excellent but well worth the trip. In any other town you’d be hard pressed to find anything better. It just so happens we aren’t in any other town, we’re in Corpus Christi.  The Great Corpus Christi, a little town I like to call Tacotopia – Breakfast Taco Capital of the World.  You might think different but if your tacos try to upset the natural order of things, they might become part of the circle of life.

From the Hat

We found ourselves at Jalisco because the taco joint we had selected was closed.  Gallus gallus hadn’t even announced the day and we were standing in an empty parking lot on Ayers.  I wonder what the street life thought at the sight of two Nerds brandishing iPhones, bringing technology to bear to locate a suitable substitute taqueria…”prey” probably.

Prey…Back in the day, I used to be quite the hunter.  Bow, black powder, rifle or shotgun – it was a great way to spend some time, spend some money, visit with friends, and perhaps bring home something for the freezer.  But I haven’t been hunting in more than five years… dove hunting a few times, but no deer.  So I decided that I’d go out and try to shoot a deer this year.  My uncle Bob sets up blinds on our place in Papalote and has taken a few pigs.  He’s seen some deer, but nothing he thought about shooting.  He hunts often so is looking for big impressive deer, or those that need to be culled.  Me, I prefer the does.  I’ll shoot a buck or an atypical of course, but does are so tasty and I’m in it for breakfast.

So I got up early and went and sat on a blind.  I’d never been up in one of these tripod blinds and I must say that I felt a bit uneasy hoisting my butt 12-15 ft in the air and sitting on a swiveling chair – a swiveling chair filled with water my butt would tell you.  Lesson one, take towel.  From my gantry view, I could see and hear the brush wake up.   I love the sounds of the dawn chorus.  Foghorn Leghorn in the distance, coyotes yapping, the occasional mystery sound, and wild birds of all kind singing as if the coming sun had just thawed their syrinxes.  It was steamy when I got there and there were mosquitoes as big as bumblebees flying around.  That didn’t last long, though.  A front blew in and it got cold, and my wet butt got cold.  I hung a couple of hours and watched a feral hog and a doe, but didn’t get a shot at either.

I went back out that afternoon and put in another several shivering hours and was rewarded with a nice doe.  The rifle was true and the deer dropped where she stood.  I always feel kind of sad when I kill a deer.  They’re really quite beautiful up close and she hadn’t done a thing to me.  But I’m looking forward to backstrap and eggs for breakfast, not this morning, though.  This morning it’s tacos.

We hadn’t reviewed one of the ubiquitous Jaliscos before and figured why not?  You can’t turn around in Corpus without running into a taqueria, and there’s a good chance it’s a Jalisco.  We chose the one on Port because it was fairly close.  They had tripas on the menu, and chicharrones, so I had one of each.  The tripas taco on a corn tarp was not stellar – but not cellar either.  The tripas were ice cube-sized Borg ships cut from a frozen block then fried in very hot grease.  Most were so fried that they had very little taste, but there were a few in the center of the cubes that were still too soft.   The corn tarp was of higher quality than those al paquete, but did not hold up to being manhandled.  Not my favorite execution of the dish, but I managed to assimilate it.  The chicharron con huevos taco was better, on a better (flour) tortilla.  The chicharrones were toothy and there were plenty of them mixed with the eggs.  The vegetables making it a la Mexicana were fresh.  Both tacos had ample filling.  The red salsa was screaming hot.  I think jalapenos.  Ian may differ.  It was good though.  The service was excellent and my Bunn-driven coffee never dropped more than a half an inch below the brim.  Tomorrow, venison and eggs.

Salud

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