I’ve got it good, and even though the strain of operating a small business during a recession in a city where recession is piled upon existing recession (re-recession?) is difficult to manage some days, there are always folks who have it worse. As Marc Maron said to Dane Cook on his podcast WTF, “Every day is a heroic struggle for most people.” And though I’m not doing anything truly heroic, like disarming IEDs or exposing abuse of children, I do sleep well at night after a long day of work, and I do look forward to that most perfect of meals on Friday morning in our city, Tacotopia, the home of the best breakfast tacos in the world.

So the Hat and I met up at Acapulco #2 this morning, and this would actually be our second time to try and write this up (the first attempt was aborted after a disasterous coffee deficiency related mixup. This time looked like it might end up the same way when after waiting for 15 minutes for the other we spotted each other waiting for the other in separate booths.

We consolidated our booths and ordered. It’s easy to see how we missed each other, the booths are enclosed by wood or etched glass floor to ceiling – providing some real privacy. The atmosphere is mostly related to train kitsch, I’d guess left over from the previous occupant, with some 70s stained glass around so that it really invokes an atmosphere of 1976 – although the aroma of the place has not weathered as well as the decor.

I had a chorizo & egg, and a carne guisada – with coffee. The food came out in short order, and the Hat seemed to be hell bent on having as many different salsas on the table as possible, ending up the the standard in a ketchup squeezer, a super hot of the shelf jalapeño salsa, a pickled but ostensibly in-house red super hot, and a ranchero for the faint of heart. I tried both the reds, and satisfied with the house standard applied it liberally to my two tacos.

They were both good, each on a fair homemade flour tortilla. The tortillas weren’t outstanding but a damn sight better than anything off a shelf. Carne guisada, after you’ve tried 50 or 60 different ones in as many weeks, doesn’t vary that much – at least in this town. There’s a continuum of red to brown that usually reflects the amount of cumin used in the cooking. This one sat squarely in the middle, and the chunks of meat were slightly larger and more plentiful that many. The meat was a bit chewy and dense, but not in a bad way.

The chorizo & egg has a powerful and sultry flavor, like Penélope Cruz in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, a taco unconcerned with the expectations of people who don’t have the vision or appetite to appreciate what it has to offer. This was the star of the breakfast, but the cast had another great supporting player – the coffee. With nothing but food service plastic thimble creamers and caked in the diner dispenser sugar this coffee held it’s own, frequently bolstered by the expeditious waitress.

A cornerstone of a good breakfast taco is good conversation and we tried to make sense of the mess that is being thrown at the gulf coast. I talked about my brilliant idea for inductive automobile infrastructure to solve the battery issue with electric vehicles (some jerks beat me to it), and Kevin talked about the dearth of decent tacos in Fort Worth. Satisfied with the fare we hoped it would satisfy the craving for tacos for another week.

From the Hat

“Two shitty tacos for seven bucks, where t f r u?”  Yes, good tacos are not a given.  This totally appropriate quote was from Taco Show Host upon receiving my picture of the menu from a downtown Fort Worth eatery.  The tacos were so tempting that I opted for a seven dollar bowl of steel cut oatmeal instead.  It just goes to show you that we live in a great place where one can find a delicious taco for a reasonable price – and just about anywhere in the city to boot.  These facts should not be taken for granted.

One shouldn’t take airline travel for granted either.  All know about the recent hurricane, Alex.  While I don’t want one to spank the Sparkling City, I have to admit that I love weather – tropical weather especially.  And when the Shedevil in el Gulfo spurred tornado warnings in Tacotopia, the airlines cancelled all flights to the area.  So instead of good, cheap tacos and exciting weather, I had crappy, expensive food and drizzly, grey, boredom.  I was never so glad to be back.  While I was too damned tired to do much of anything when I got home, (Thank goodness for Taco Blanca’s delicious spaghetti and meat sauce.) I knew that I’d be participating in Tacotopia’s breakfast ritual the next day and so slept like a baby.

I was primed for today’s adventure and hoping for a gulp of gastronomic greatness.   I’ll try my best not to overrate today’s taco treats.  I worry that so many days stranded in downtown Bad Food, messed up my calibrations and almost anything will get a good rating.  Taco Show Host and I ended up at Taqueria Acapulco at the corner of Weber and Gollihar.  We’d been before, but due to a transportation SNAFU, weren’t able to properly review the place.  I ordered two tacos on flour, a papas con chorizo, and a machacado y huevos a la Mexicana.  The machacado taco wasn’t a home run, because it started a bit bland.  But there was plenty of the carne seco, and with the addition of a tiny bit of salt, the taco brightened right up.  The vegetables in the Mexicana were fresh, but might have benefitted from a bit more serrano to the mix.  (Maybe due to the fact that I had trouble getting my heat on in downtown Fort Worth.)  While I’m on the subject of heat, Acapulco served two salsas, a Ranchero, and a fresh red, both good, but neither packed any heat.  I asked the pretty waitress if they had anything Really Hot.  She developed a mischievous smile and disappeared into the kitchen, only to return with a commercial bottle of something green, and a smooth puree-like red salsa made on site.  The red is definitely worth asking for.  Blazing hot, vinegary, with the texture reminiscent of mole, it didn’t take much to get the taco where I wanted it.  Satiated, I passed on the commercial green.  My second taco was the morning star – plenty of potatoes and rich, red, vinegary goodness that is chorizo.  The potatoes were cooked to the perfect consistency and the spicy, oily chorizo really hit the spot.  The flour torts were good – fluffy and light.  Backed up by really good café coffee and conversation the meal recalibrated me back into control, readying me for the day.  I’ll be back.

But as the smoke clears and the dust settles from a week of harried and hurried pushes to finish projects just before (or in a few cases just after) their dealine, there appears to be a light at the end of the sweatshop. I picked up a new embroidery machine after a big order that looked like it would fall apart magically put itself back together, and I hired a new employee to operate it. We had a good turnout at the CC7D casting call where I made and sold the shirts (get yours here), and a good turnout at the Downtown Art Walk last night.

So I was looking forward to a real breakfast this morning when I headed South to Nile, to eat at the recommended La Chapala, past a pastoral sunrise down Ocean Drive and through the smell of Summer. I hadn’t eaten here before, and upon arriving I discovered there was no interior dining area, it was walkup only, with a teeter totter picnic table that might have been built for Andre the Giant. It could harldy have been a better morning to sit outside, and the insects may have added some much needed complexity to the flavor of the Carne Guisada.

While the ambience was charming, the food … not so much. The tortillas were like something you’d find on a taco from Des Moines – stiff and tasteless. It tainted the rest of the tacos which didn’t need much help to be less than ideal. The chorizo & egg was bland and unremarkable. The carne guisada was not bad, but tasted very much like it was right out of a food service bag’n’boil. The salsa was a bit of a bright spot, but not enough to recover this meal, and the whole thing was topped off with ‘construction coffee’ – which if you’ve had coffee from a coffeemaker in a job shack, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

As a taco enthusiast I hate to disparage establishments that are furthering the cause of tacotude, but this place may be doing a disservice to the world’s acceptance of tacos. After tabulating the scores Chapala has the worst scores to date of any place at which we’ve eaten. Do yourself a favor if you’re trying to scope out an untried taco place and look through reviews of any of the other spots in town and you’ll be glad you did. If you’re trying to curb your addiction to tacos in response to Corpus Christi’s ownership of the title of fattest city in the US this place might help.

A little band from the 80’s had a great song that captures the essence of this issue –

“In ancient rome,
there was a poem
about a dog
who had two bones.
He picked at one.
He licked the other.
He went in circles
and he dropped dead.”

I was setting up an account with a vendor this morning, and had to spend 45 minutes, call three numbers, and navigate through countless voice prompts just to find the name of an actual person at my bank to put down on the application. It’s enough to make a man want to sign up for a lobotomy.  I’ll take mine in the form of two breakfast tacos, thank you very much.

And here in Tacotopia, we have many trained master taco surgeons ready to oblige. For the cure to this morning’s psychotic break I checked myself in to Hospital la Tapatia, located on Ayers near Golihar in what can only have been a Burger King in a past life (I know the layout, BK was my first job). The Hat and I had been to La Tapatia #2, and to date it got the worst rating we’ve given so we didn’t quite know what to expect. The quality of a taqueria can vary from day to day, so comparing one restaurant to another with the same name can be like comparing an apple to something that’s unlike an apple.

I like to sit in a booth, and these booths were still intact. The interior was clean, bright, and filled with a heady enthusiasm for the biggest sporting event in the world crackling out of the TV. I was rooting for the carne guisada, but in the end the chorizo and egg won. My carne g came out with huge chunks of beef, the biggest I’ve seen in this type of taco, but the flavor was pretty neutral and the gravy tasted just a bit of Sysco. The chorizo and egg was better, though the flavor of the chorizo was not that distinctive. The three red salsas were all excellent, and the handmade flour tortillas as well. The coffee as well was good and constantly replenished.

That’s the thing about Corpus Christi, we are presented with so many choices of incredibly good breakfast tacos we forget what it’s like in places like Austin, where you can’t get fresh tortillas at five places in a three block radius at 6:30 in the morning in just about every working neighborhood. That’s why our ratings look like they never change. Corpus operates on such a high level that almost anywhere you go is going to be at least a high B, and probably an A. Throw on top of that the incredible value of these taco shops, where you can feed two people breakfast for less than it costs to buy a coffee at Starbucks and my newly lobotomized mind boggles. It is really like a little slice of heaven to be able to be surrounded by such a bounty of taco goodness here in South Texas.

So La Tapatia was serviceable, pleasant, satisfying, and I’d even say fun. The waitress’ enthusiasm for team Mexico was infectious. Now we’ll have to go back and try Tapatia #2.

From the Hat

So today starts the most watched sports tournament in the world – the World Cup.  I’d like to be clever and use all sorts of soccer (futbol) – related references, but in reality, I’d be guessing if you asked me how many players are the field at a time.  And what are those guys in the big nets doing anyway?  I’m sure it has something to do with the extended “Gooooaalll” when someone scores.  I understand the excitement.   The announcers get to perform their yells, what, maybe five times in the whole tournament.  I’d make it last too.

Sure, I’ll participate in the hype. How can I avoid it? Already I’ve found myself talking shit about kickin’ the Brit’s asses and I don’t have a clue about either team. But it doesn’t matter. That’s part of the fun. People are social animals. Theodore K-types aside, we like to be part of groups. We find strength in numbers and enjoy the comfort that comes from being in the company of like-minded people.  So I find myself enjoying the good-natured ribbing with a small crowd of friends at the expense of a friendly Brit. And I say she held up well to the barrage, dosing us with an across-the-pond version of the same business we were giving her – but with an accent. Get ’em Cat.

Sure, I couldn’t tell you who has the best chance of winning, who the stars are, why the keepers get to wear fancier clothing. Nor do I have the answer to many other soccer mysteries, but I don’t have to. I’ll be like many others, enjoying the spectacle and unless I catch some on a public TV, I won’t see a game. Speaking of public TV, the World Cup opening ceremonies were playing at Tapatia while TSH and I had our Friday morning taco repast and in the midst of colorful costumes, dancing, singing, and a human-powered dung beetle butt-up to a minivan-sized soccer ball – there were tacos.

I had a lengua taco, and uno de mollejas, both on flour torts.  The tortillas were very good, toothy, dense, and cooked to that perfect Holstein look. Both were stuffed amply with the goods. The pale, grey lengua looked steamed, not the guisada I prefer. But it was tender and with the addition of salt and salsas, and onions, and cilantro, good. The mollejas were better. Fried crisp, but not quite that perfect fried oyster consistency and served with pico de gallo. They also suffered from a paucity of seasoning, which I made up for with a couple of excellent salsas. One was surface-of-the-sun HOT!  It was offered in a squeeze bottle with a color scheme reminiscent of hornet.  There was a slightly fermented taste that I haven’t decided was purposeful. With purpose or not, it added a pleasant sourness that one doesn’t find in typical Mexican sauces. The second salsa was a rich brown-red color with a deep, smoky flavor and mild heat. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff. The coffee was cafe good and served in an IV drip by a diligent waitress who was definitely rooting for Mexico.  To her I say, “Go Dallas Cowboys!!”

Salud