Unless you’re from Yugoslavia or Dallas, or currently playing Second Life in your mom’s basement, you probably know about Airline Road. This place has all of the best elements of Mexico. Panaderias, refresquerias, carnicerias, ostionerias, and taco trucks. Looking for a giant tres leches cake? A pinata? A michelada or bounty hunter?
You’ve come to the right place, cabron.
Night chicken disco.
Though there are usually several taco trucks in the area, I arrived at the El Regio truck late in the day, after most of the daytime stands had driven off to count their dollars and watch cockfights or something. So it’s time for some chicken.
Pollos Asados El Regio always seems to be there. A massive yellow/orange trailer with gleaming stainless and neon lights, with a giant cartoon chicken (of course) plastered on the exterior, the El Regio truck is both a graphic designer’s nightmare and a chicken lover’s dream, visually overshadowing any nearby taco trucks in its realm.
I stepped out of the giant car, crushing a small scorpion with my boot heel and ensuring that my windows were down so that everyone in the area could hear “As the Levee Breaks” blasting through the speakers as I made my entrance into the chicken stand parking lot.
I reviewed their extensive menu, which consisted of these items: A whole chicken and a half chicken. Now I prefer dark meat, but I’m not going to tell him that because my Spanish is terrible, and last time I did that I was forced to do some kind of pantomime. I didn’t want to do the air guitar thing with my leg again, so I just ordered a half chicken.
So listen. You can go to nice restaurants all day long without finding chicken that is genuinely slow-smoked. I don’t know how they get away with this. I mean, eating baked chicken is like sitting through a horror movie with no frontal nudity.
Pollos Asados El Regio really smokes this stuff, and they smoke it well- all the way through. Remember your buddy’s barbecue a couple of years ago, where you were really hungry but it took four hours for the chicken to be ready, and by the time it was ready you were too drunk to eat? It’s kind of like that chicken, except you get to eat it instead of just savoring that smell while you told jokes you couldn’t remember the punch lines to and hit on that guy’s daughter while he was right there.You remember.
The red achiote-rubbed, pleasantly blackened chicken is served with a liberal quantity of grilled whole onions, Mexican rice, fresh lime slices, corn tortillas, creamy jalapeno salsa and borracho beans. I’m not sure if that’s what they call these beans, because it was more of a stew; complete with beans, chunks of beef and gristle, carrots, and a fatty chicken broth. Once I tried it, I wanted to buy a gallon of it.
This chicken was outstanding, and in my opinion could go toe-to-toe with any four-star restaurant in town. I wanted to eat the bones.
Dinner of Campiones.
I’m not big on rice- it’s one of the few things I occasionally leave on my plate. But real Mexican rice is amazing stuff, and I don’t use the term lightly. Cooked perfectly with chicken broth, it was a staple to be reckoned with. Obviously, I made chicken tacos with the rice, onions and chicken, and dipped it in the soup like real caballeros instinctively do. The creamy green salsa was great as well, but wasn’t as spicy as I’d hoped. I was out of bear mace, so I dumped some Blaire’s After Death sauce on it for added taste bud masochism.
What a meal, and for an easy five bucks, I could spare some dinero to wash it down with a giant can of Tecate. That’s what Cente would probably do.
My coworker Pablo took the bus to work this morning. An engine belt broke, and he had to pick up the belt at an auto parts store.
“Where do you live, Pablo?”
“North Gessner.”
“That place where all the tacos are?”
“Yep.”
“Need a ride home?”
North Gessner, in the Spring Branch area, is a taco lover’s paradise. The streets are strewn with taco stands and taquerias. I knew the auto parts store might close, but hey, I’m shopping for tacos here.
If you're advertising the best tacos in town, you'd better deliver!
I saw the Jarro Cafe taco truck on the left, and hit my brakes in the middle of North Gessner. I had seen that logo before, remembering Robb Walsh’s Top Ten Taco Trucks list from 1995. This one was on the top of the list. It’s also been featured on Addie Broyle’s food blog, and was one of the historic Austin Meets Houston Taco Tour stops.
As a matter of principle, I like to stop at the lesser known taco stands, the places that might have a unique taco meat selection and regional salsas. But I’m not missing the “number one” taco stand. I can’t just drive past it.
As you can see, the sign clearly states “The Best Tacos in Town”. Hearing the cars crash behind me as I u-turned my boat-car, I noticed that the other side of the sign read “The Best Salsas in Town”. I pulled up and jogged to the taco stand as if I was carrying a styrofoam cooler containing a heart transplant.
Oddly enough, the stand is in front of an actual restaurant of the same name. Others may not understand my logic, but why go inside a restaurant when there’s a taco truck right here?
This taco trailer was in tip-top shape, with polished stainless everywhere. These people knew exactly what they were doing.And then I saw the menu. Every taco meat I’d ever heard of was on the list, in Spanish and English. Shazzam!
Even suadero tacos. And suadero, my friends, is something you want to sink your teeth into.
Their tacos were priced at $1.50 each, and there was a five dollar special that advertised three tacos and a drink. Although I had a feeling their fajita tacos would be top-notch, I decided to go with some of the more unusual fare.
Cochinita Pibil, Campechano, and Suadero.
Campechano: Chorizo and beef. That’s right, in the same taco. Jarro Cafe claims this is their specialty.
Cochinita Pibil: Yucatan-style pulled pork.
Suadero: An excellent type of beef, a cut, texture, and flavor that is perfect for tacos.
These tacos were served with lime, grilled onions, cilantro, and radishes. The radishes were a great touch, and reminded me of the Tijuana taco stands that served whole radishes with every taco order.
I tried the campechano first. I thought the beef and sausage combo was unusual, and I was right. It was unusually awesome. This was grade-A chorizo, and the two textures were perfect together. I generously applied the bright-orange salsa from a nearby plastic container. It accented these meats perfectly.
Then I tried the cochinita pibil. It had a texture similar to canned sloppy joe mix, for lack of a better description. It had an interesting smoky and tangy flavor, with an obvious influence of dried peppers. I could tell you more, but I pretty much scarfed it down in order to get to the prize taco. It was good, but the lesser of the three. Hey, there’s gotta be one, right?
I applied lime generously to the champion suadero.
“Best salsas in town?” I thought to myself.
“Let’s see what they’ve got”.
I asked the lovely taco lady if she had anything hotter. She smiled and pulled another container from ice, which contained neon green salsa. This salsa would literally glow beneath a black light, if given the chance. I giggled like a little girl as I dumped this stuff all over my suadero taco.
It tasted magnificent. It was absolutely spectacular. And it was really hot. I mean, the orange stuff was hot by most non-Texan standards, but this neon-green wondersauce was the stuff of legends. It was nuclear.
I handed the bottle to Pablo, but he had already killed his three tacos.
“Pablo, please get another taco so you can try this stuff”.
Since the section of Irvington with all the tacos apparently can’t be found intentionally, I had to purposely get lost in the area in order to find it. I didn’t have a taco stand in mind, but the idea was to find a whole block of taco joints and just pick one particular truck.
Since I hate getting lost, I got a friend of mine to pick me up in his car so he could deal with the frustration of getting lost instead, while I pretended to navigate.
I came across a small stand called Taqueria el Taconazo. Wow! I mean, most taco trucks call themselves Taqueria de “Some place in Mexico?”, but somebody had the eggs to call their stand Taqueria el Taconazo.
"And I shall call it, TAQUERIA TACONAZO. "
That’s like, Tacos from the Land of All Tacos or something.
There was another taco truck directly across the street that had 99 cent tacos. I would have gone there instead but admittedly, I was intrigued by the Taconazo name.
There was something really intriguing about this stand- it had a picture on the front that stated, “Tacos de Trompo”, with a familiar photograph of the method al pastor was served in my old Tijuana running grounds. I recalled this Houston Press article I read in 2006 by Robb Walsh all about tacos de trompo, where he explains the cooking method.
Tacos de Trompo. Only found in Mexico.
“Trompo is the Spanish word for the child’s toy we call a top. In the parlance of taquerias, a trompo is a stout metal skewer loaded up with strips of marinated pork cut in a rounded shape. The meat is narrow at the bottom and gets thicker higher up, forming the shape of a top. When the trompo revolves on a vertical roaster, the pork is cooked on the outside edges. When you order a taco, the cooked meat is shaved off, then grilled until it’s crispy. It’s then used to make tacos al pastor (a.k.a. tacos de trompo) and other treats. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” –Robb Walsh
In this article, he also explains why “tacos de trompo” has been deemed illegal by the Health Department. So even though the tacos al pastor may not be carved from this magnificent meat display, the picture on the front of the taco stand says it sure as hell does.
It’s kind of like a jewelry store having a poster on the window that says, “We Now Carry Blood Diamonds”. You know blood diamonds are probably bad, but you secretly want one or two, although you generally don’t really like diamonds anyway.
That was a really bad analogy. Anyhow, the real reason tacos de trompo are not allowed by the health department is, the health department’s objective is to shut down taco trucks. This is nothing new.
My amigo ordered tortas. “This is a taco stand, what are you thinking?” I asked.
“I’m a real Mexican, so I can order whatever I want”, he explained logically.
I ordered two brisket tacos (“bisteka”), two tacos al pastor, and two fajita tacos. Since I’m currently a Level 2 tacomaster, I went ahead and ordered a lime Jarrito soda while everyone around stared in awe at my sound judgment and impeccable taste.
I keep coming across the same type of red salsa in this part of town. It has an oil base and a smoky taste. It’s good, but it’s not particularly spicy. I like the smoky flavor, but the taste can be overbearing if you really overload your taco with it.
The green salsa was disappointing, and didn’t have much bite to it at all, which in my opinion is the whole point of using the green stuff.
The al pastor was good, but not great. It was heavy on the paprika as expected, and had a savory flavor that went well with the smoky red salsa.
The fajita was the best of the three, and I loved it. Norteamericanos in general tend to put a big emphasis on tender meat, but when it comes to tacos, I like the chewy, gristly stuff that puts hair on your chest, peckerwood.
The torta was another story. Although I didn’t order one myself, my buddy’s torta was PACKED with meat, and looked absolutely amazing. Next time, I’ll be getting the fajita torta.
A preview of the Level 3 Tacomaster beverage: Jarritos Tamarindo.
Folks, I’d like to introduce GunsandTaco.com’s first guest post, written by Jeff Timpanaro. Enjoy!
TWITTER, DROOL, AND YOU
One peril of following someone on Twitter named @GunsAndTacos is that you’re seeing the word “Tacos” about 18 times per day.
It’s easy to understand how seeing the word Tacos in blue, bold font motivates a person to – well – eat more tacos.(I hope psychopaths don’t have the same phenomenon with the ‘Guns’ part.)
But if you click through and read @GunsAndTacos’ blog, which tends to describe “luscious tacos on homemade corn tortillas stacked with barbacoa, cilantro, and onions, with a handful of limes on the side” – well, you might as well not grocery shop anymore. Lunch is – waistline be damned – around the corner at the taco stand.
TACOS FLORES
4808 FM 1960 E.
Humble, TX 77338
Having driven by Tacos Flores in Humble for 7 years and never stopped, I figured it was time to give it a shot. I’m so glad I did.
I don’t know the entire story, but Tacos Flores began like many other taco stands out there: as a trailer with a canopy. But about four years ago, every time I would drive by, I would see new developments being added to the property. Outdoor seating, patio, more umbrellas, a parking lot, more cars, bigger signage, etc.
I don’t know if this was a conscious effort by the owners to attract more (or different) clientele. I remember in its early years, you’d really just see landscaping crews and Mexicanos – lots of them – milling around the lot, ordering taco baskets from a walk-up window. That should have been my clue that the food was good, right? I just never made it in.
But now that the inside and outside decor has been <sigh> “white-ified,” the yuppies, suburban families, college students, and suits in the area are really discovering it. Guess I’m guilty by association, but that’s o.k. It’s been a great discovery.
My first impression walking in was that it was clean, friendly, and that they were serious about preparing fresh food. My dining companions – my mom and two of my sons (both toddlers) sat down while I ordered.
I spoke Spanish to the lady at the counter, who obliged me by speaking Spanish also. I explained it was my first visit, and she seemed genuinely thankful that we finally stopped in.
I ended up with three barbacoa tacos, rice and refried beans on the side. I got mom three ground beef tacos, which might have been a mistake in retrospect. I’m not brave enough to eat lengua; the beef was a safe bet anyway since I planned a taco swap with mom.
I wish I hadn’t, because I had to give up one of my barbacoa tacos – one of the best I’d ever had. I was happy to discover that the tortillas de maiz (corn) were homemade, and you could taste the difference immediately. With ample cilantro, fresh onions on top and two big lime wedges on the side, I was a happy camper. Snarf.
A great add-on was the authentic Mexican Coke in the glass bottle. I think I may have shown my gringo colors when I poured it over ice, but that’s just force of habit. It was dee-lish.
The kids – never an afterthought when deciding where to eat – left happy. They split a gigantic hamburger with fries, which was nothing to write home about but they don’t care much as long as the tank is getting filled and there’s plenty of ketchup.
I think we got out of there for $21.00 or so, which was slightly higher than I’d anticipated. But I can’t fathom what the same amount of food might have cost at Pappasito’s.
So if you’re ever heading east on FM 1960 in Humble, visit Tacos Flores for some great comida. And since my BlackBerry didn’t take any food pictures worth a damn, you’ll just have to take my word for it.
My friend Randy Taguchi, an author from Kanagawa, Japan, told me she was heading to Okinawa to get some tacos. Ludicrous, I thought. There are no tacos in Japan. Something is amiss.
Another friend of mine explained that Randy probably meant “tako”, the Japanese word for octopus. This made sense, maybe I had misunderstood.
However, Randy specifically told me she was going to Okinawa for tacos. And since she was headed to Okinawa, which is essentially the same as Americans heading to Hawaii, I suspected she wasn’t doing it just for a bunch of octopi.
Octopus in Japan is like, I dunno, ham in Delaware.
Then she sent me the photo on the left. I can’t tell if they’re crispy or soft tacos, but they are, in fact, tacos. Here are some more photos of Randy’s trip to Okinawa.
As happy as I was to see the heavenly glory of tacos spreading throughout the world, I was a bit disappointed that the bastardized American version of tacos ended up overseas, instead of the real thing. And something tells me that these were really expensive, when real tacos should only cost one dollar.
From what I understand, the influence of tacos came from the US Marines that were stationed in Okinawa back in the day. A local Okinawan chef realized the popularity of tacos with the soldiers, and created a dish called ‘taco rice’.
Taco rice is ground beef, seasoned with chili powder (sort of like 4-alarm Chili mixes), and served over a bed of rice with lettuce and cucumber. This dish is now so popular in Japan that it is served as a school lunch, and KFC has adapted it into their Japanese menus.
Here’s a Marine recipe for taco rice, and if you look at the comments you’ll see several guys that are sappy about this Okinawan cuisine. Someone decided it was a good idea to stuff the food into a tortilla, and at that point, the Taco went full circle and reinvented itself.
I had an in-depth conversation with Japan, as a whole, about their choice to use Casa Ole tacos instead of real tacos.I’m the guy in the video that resembles Bruce Lee, and the other guy is Japan.
Yes, I understand that Bruce Lee has nothing to do with Japan, but I thought it was fitting.
Thanks to Randy Taguchi for sharing the pictures!
Japanese taco machine. Photo courtesy of www.peterpayne.net
"Taco stands probably have germs. Let's go to Casa Ole."
Next time you visit a Mexican Restaurant, skim through the menu, and look for these two key words.
“Soft” and/or “Crispy”
If you see these words, politely leave. If you’re a polite person, that is.
This may seem extreme, but please realize that this means that everything on this menu is going to consist of these ingredients, and nothing else:
Ground Beef
Lettuce
Tomatoes
Refried Beans
Rice
Cheese
Fried chips
Pickled jalapenos
Please look at these ingredients, and think of all the restaurants that serve absolutely nothing but different combinations of these ingredients, aside from pseudo-margaritas made with Jose Cuervo and “sweet and sour mix” that will burn a hole in your stomach lining. Don’t get me started on Señor Cuervo.
I’d cite examples, but shit, you know what I mean. Each of these ingredients are dirt cheap, and since this has been the standard for “Mexican” restaurants for about twenty years, it is your duty as a consumer to stop eating there.
Keep making these people rich, and they’ll keep shutting down taco stands by shoveling the same boring ingredients down your gullet.
I took a spin outside of the West Loop Sunday morning on my way to work to scope out some taco joints. This area has a large South American population, so you’ll find a combination of taquerias, taco stands and pupuserias. What is a pupuseria, you may ask? A place to get pupusas, of course. But I’m not here to eat those.
I pinpointed a few prospective taco eateries, and plugged them into my cell phone. Bleep, bloop. The majority of the places I found were around the intersection of Renwick and Gulfton.
I headed to my part-time gig at Top Gun Range, and noticed that my fellow foodie friend Eugenio was there. Outstanding. This means my chances of eating bullshit for lunch will be greatly reduced.
Eugenio had some old college friends in town, and they had no lunch plans.
Tacos are their lunch plans now, I explained.
We all sat down and E. ordered for us. I never have a problem with this, because if someone orders for the group, it probably means they’re buying. He ordered three tacos al pastor, three chicharrones tacos, three chicken tacos,and three lengua tacos. This guy is a Spartan.
The friendly waitress, relieved that there was a Spanish speaker among us, brought us each a small bowl of excellent frijoles (gratis). The corn chips were thick and were sprinkled with a red powder, and there were two salsas, a bright orange salsa rojo and a fiery green sauce.
Then the tacos arrived, and man, they sure looked good. All of the tacos had a big pile of fresh and finely cut cilantro and onions. The corn tortillas were not homemade, which was a bit disappointing, but it occurred to me that if they were to make all of these tortillas on the spot, it would have taken a long time to make. Also, I knew the impressive salsa would go well with each and every one of these. Here’s a short summary:
I'm revising history. Food of the gods= nectar, ambrosia, tacos.
al Pastor – Well seasoned, but not too much marinade, so you could really taste the pork. It had a barbacoa-like consistency.
Chicharrones – Folks keep telling me how good well-made chicharrones tacos taste when done right. I’ve never enjoyed them, so I guess they’re just not for me. It’s just a bunch of orange greasy chunks of fat. Eugenio and I decided that they had probably pulled it from the menudo pot. These could be good chicharrones tacos for all I know. I just don’t like them.
Pollo (chicken) – It was a little dry, but still enjoyable. Once I dumped a bunch of that green salsa on them, they were fantastic. I always prefer red salsa on beef and green salsa on chicken.
Lengua – This was fantastic and unique. Their lengua had the same barbacoa texture and consistency, a bit more substantial. That bright orange salsa went with them perfectly.
If you’re eating tacos, and something seems to be missing, squirt lime juice all over them. Hell, squirt lime juice on them before you take your first bite. If you don’t have enough limes, let them know.
We devoured these tacos like the true barbarians we are, and then we went to the range and fired automatic machine guns. After all, it was Sunday.
The painting above the cooked-food section of the meat market exemplifies a new art movement: Awesomism.
So I’m headed to Job #2 at Top Gun Range Saturday morning, and I realized it has been almost 12 hours since I’ve had a taco.
“Where do I get a taco around here?” I briefly thought to myself. Then I had a secondary thought to myself: “I’m right down the street from Chimney Rock, dumbass”.
Heading south on Chimney Rock, you’ll find somewhat of a taco emporium the moment you cross Highway 59. Although this street isn’t lined with taco stands like it was a few years ago, you’ll find a lot of great little taquerias. If you shop around on this street late at night, you will find some danger as well as awesome tacos. But danger is good for you, and if you happen upon the taco stand in front of The Corona Club late at night, you’ll have a memorable experience. But that ‘s another story.
I came across two venerable taco establishments next door to one another: Taqueria Mi Ilusion and Matamoros Meat Market #4.
I typed a (proprietary) taco equation into my custom-built device (Thanks, Texas Instruments). Matamoros Meat Market #4 was the answer.
Barbacoa on the left, tripas on the right.
I knew when I walked in that this was exactly what I was looking for. I was in the mood for a huge bowl of menudo, as well as some tacos.
The menudo didn’t look wonderful. I can generally tell how much I’m going to enjoy a bowl of menudo by looking at it. I like a bright red menudo broth, and this was orange.
Although tripas (fastidously prepared bovine intestines) are not normally my first choice, I could tell that this was one of their specialties. It looked amazing.
Also, I couldn’t turn down the barbacoa because you just can’t leave a carniceria without trying their barbacoa or you will probably get in a knifefight with someone.
At the counter, there was a bike horn taped to the counter. That is, a horn that you can honk if no one is attending the meats.
Aside from the standard fare of carnicerias, there was a fine selection of awesome Mexican comic books. If only I wasn’t in such a hurry.
Tripas and Barbacoa.
As I expected, the menudo was pretty lame. Menudo is traditionally only available on weekends, and is best on Saturdays for some reason. This was like getting Sunday menudo on Saturday. This only makes sense to me, I suppose.
However, I’m really glad I picked it up because one of my coworkers had a moderate hangover which was “completely cured” when I served him a cup of this stuff.
The tripas tacos were outstanding, as well as the barbacoa. I was a little disappointed in the red salsa, and the lady behind the checkout counter assured me that there were limes in the bag, although there were none. Altogether, a fantastic breakfast. I ended up spending ten bucks, but only because I was completely overzealous and bought too much food.
Note: Oddly enough, there is a second, semi-famous Matamoros Meat Market #4 in The Heights.
This place has been here since 1973, which is why any long-time Heights resident will recommend it. No matter what their age, they’ve been eating here since ________.
“I’ve been eating here since ________”, I’ve realized, is not so much of a recommendation towards the fine cuisine of an establishment, but more of a testament to the person recommending it.
There are a lot of places I enjoyed dining at as a teenager. Going back to these places to eat several years later, I’ve realized that you can come to one of the following conclusions:
A: This place has really gone downhill since I ate here years ago.
B. Since I got out of said hometown, I learned what good food really is.
But some folks (and probably most folks) never leave their hometown and alas, they still think that the Mexican restaurant in their neighborhood is top-notch.
La Carreta is that place.
I stopped there Friday evening, and parked next to a dude sleeping in his car. Which is fine with me, because his car was running. In Houston, in August, in the daytime, if someone is sleeping in their car and it is not running, he is not sleeping.
I ordered a lemonade. For some reason, some areas in the Houston Heights are dry. As much as the ‘dry area’ concept pisses me off, it is probably a good thing for some areas of the Heights. Like most legitimate Mexican-owned establishments, the limonada was fantastic, and made with real lime juice. To clarify, if you order lemonade in a real Mexican restaurant, you’ll probably get limeade. Which is a good thing.
Have you ever used Rotel tomatoes from a can? If you have, perhaps you poured out the juice before you used the Rotel tomatoes for your purpose. What ever happened to that juice, you may ponder? I can tell you. It’s right here, and I’m dipping my tortilla chips in it, here at La Carreta.
I had been told that this place had some great lengua tacos. Seeing as the place didn’t have lengua tacos on their menu, I realized that the person who told me that probably hadn’t eaten here in a decade or two.
Unfortunately, La Carreta only has two types of tacos on their menu, crispy and soft. It is important to know that if you see the word “crispy” or “soft” on any Mexican restaurant menu, you’re already screwed; unless of course, you’ve been eating there for the past ten years. (I’ll get into that later in another post.)
I ordered from the “House Specialties” section, and got the Carnitas Rancheras, which consists of fried pork, smothered with a spicy tomato salsa. Complete with rice and beans. I also ordered a crispy beef taco for the hell of it, even though I knew what to expect. My companion ordered a combination plate with cheese enchiladas.
I don’t normally getting anything “a la ranchera” unless I’m getting huevos rancheros. It’s okay to dump a bunch of chunky peppery sauce on bland items like fried eggs, but if you order something that you’re intended to taste, such as seafood for example, you’re going to drown it in this stuff and you won’t taste anything.
The pork chunks were slow-roasted, seasoned well and very tender, and I enjoyed it. However, my companion, a gorgeous blonde vixen of perfect proportions, told me that the cheese enchiladas “tasted like single-slice Kraft and sweaty balls”.
She then asked me why everyone eating there was weird looking. This bothered me at first. “Who could be so insensitive?”, I thought. Until I looked around and saw that most of the dining audience was utilizing some sort of motorized ambulation.
Another thing that bothered me was, although the temperature of the room didn’t seem to be terribly hot, I was burning up. Now I’m not one to complain about temperature, partly because everybody else does. But I was sweating.
I had a brick wall to my left, and realized that the wall was hot to the touch. Apparently I had chosen the wall opposite of the oven in the kitchen, and the brick wall was the only thing separating me from the inside of the cooking oven. By the time I figured it out, I was ordering boxes for the rest of our uneaten dishes.
If you like Casa Ole and Los Tios, you may like La Carreta. The one outstanding thing about La Carreta is, the prices are really low. I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it was 8 bucks. Most of the menu items were around $5 . If you’re not concerned about Mexican authenticity, you can’t beat the value here.
Last Sunday evening, after an exciting day working at the range, I stopped at one of my favorite beer joints and came across a friend of mine, James H.
James can put away some tacos.
James was raised in Laredo, TX, and though his Spanish sucks, he has a healthy respect for real tacos. I was astounded by his taco knowledge when we first met a few months back in Houston. I mean, this gabacho knows tacos better than most Mexican-Americans I know.
So we stopped by Cocina de Colima (Colima’s Kitchen), one of my favorite taco joints in town. I ordered one taco al pastor , the Combos Mixtos plate, and Ceviche Colima, their trademark ceviche on a tostada. And a pair of Tecates, of course.
Everything was amazing, including their bright orange salsa. James didn’t play around with the other items on the menu. He ordered a variety of tacos. Here is a short video clip of my reaction.
From what I understand, Colima, Mexico is arguably one of the most beautiful places in Mexico. Many taco stands take their name from Colima’s northern neighbor, Jalisco.
Ceviche de Colima
I couldn’t get over the taste of the ceviche. The picture doesn’t do it justice- it was just fantastic.
If you order guacamole, they won’t give you that tired stuff you’ll get at chain restaurants. It’s the real thing, and if you’ve ever had the ‘make guacamole at your table’ experience at a nice Mexican restaurant, it’s the same thing. Except it doesn’t cost fifteen bucks, and they don’t make it at your table.
As I’ve mentioned before, their tacos al pastor are some of the best in the Bayou City.
Although the language barrier can be an issue for non-Spanish speakers, the wait staff is really friendly and helpful. Also, it makes it easy to order when there are pictures of all the food items on the wall. As long as you can just point at what you want (and say “Tecate”), you’ll be in good shape.
The manager’s a great guy, and if he’s around, he’ll introduce himself to everyone at your table.
The menu's on the wall.
Next time you’re on Fountainview, be sure to check out this spot. Cocina De Colima is located on Fountainview, just north of 59. And if you run into James H, buy him cold Tecate.
Colima, Mexico. That Rhode Island looking thing right under the state of Jalisco.
