Pre-tacos.
Guns and Tacos
Subscirbe to the Guns and Tacos RSS FeedTacos El Mapache
A large raccoon advertises tacos for El Mapache.
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.
I don’t always eat cheese, but when I do, I prefer Cacique.
Vicente Fernandez in Mexico is kind of like Frank Sinatra, Elvis, and Charles Bronson in one package. He also promotes cheese.
You can call him "Chente" for short.
Matamoros Meat Market #4
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.
La Carreta
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.
Cocina de Colima, part Dos.
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.
How barbacoa is done.
If you’re familiar with barbacoa, you probably know that it’s really hit or miss. Barbacoa is one of the fattiest taco meats you can find, and when done right, it’s magnificent. When done wrong, it’s really awful.
A lot of folks consider barbacoa as breakfast taco fare. I’m not into breakfast tacos, but nothing in the world beats the tender, fatty texture and taste of this stuff when made correctly.
This delectable “head meat” comes right off of a bovine skull. If you’d like to see how it’s done, watch this video by Robb Walsh; an author, food critic, and Tex-Mex connoisseur who cooks this stuff in his back yard like a true caballero. In fact, if you look up “Tex-Mex” in the dictionary (Wikipedia) you’ll see him.
Beretta PX4 Storm
The Beretta PX4 Storm is a derivative of the Beretta 92, which won the US military contract over the Colt 45 in 1984.
Without getting too far into this aspect, I must note that on June 11, 1979, the day that the US government chose the Italian 9mm Beretta 92 contract versus the American-made Colt 45, every US war veteran turned into Meryl Streep for at least one day.
Our statement to the world was, “The people of America have spoken, and their choice is for our soldiers to use smaller bullets that cost less. Also I forgot to mention that if we’re going to buy all of our guns from Italy, we politicians will get a great deal on leather furniture if we pull this off.”
This was also the day of John Wayne’s death, but this isn’t about the Beretta 92.
Sorry, I made that part up. Moving on.
Beretta came out with the PX4 just a few years ago. In my opinion, it’s a cool-looking gun. And come on, you’ve got to admit that’s definitely a good buying point.
The PX4 Storm, available in 9mm, 40 and 45 calibers, has been featured on Live Free and Die Hard, as well as a few episodes of 24. That’s right, Jack Bauer carried it. And that’s important.
One sleek looking piece.
What attracted me to the Beretta PX4 Storm was the grip on it. Once you wrap your hands around this sucker, you’re sold. If not, you’ll notice that the backstrap, or the back of the grip of the pistol, can be changed out with one of two other supplied backstraps.
I’m sure this is a great selling point, because the buyer is thinking, “This grip may not fit perfectly, but if it doesn’t, I can just change it out later.”
It takes a minute or two to replace this backstrap, and it’s not something that a lot of gun shops would let you mess around with before purchasing it. So as a prospective PX4 buyer, you may not get a chance to try out the different grips before buying it. What’s interesting is, I’ve tried all three backstraps, and they all feel about the same to me. All three of these grip options fit my hand well.
The PX4 comes with a Picatinny rail, standard, along with night sights. If you’re considering the purchase of a PX4, know that most modern semiautos have the Picatinny rail, but very few come with factory night sights (The HK P30 is another one that does).
The PX4 retails for $600 or so, and surprisingly, I haven’t seen them for more than $100 below that.
Since the most common version comes with a manual thumb safety, I would definitely recommend carrying this gun chambered. Not just because of the awkward thumb safety that must be flipped up (instead of down like most other traditional slide-mounted safeties), but due to the fact that the slide must be dramatically snapped into cycle in order to load the round effectively. By the way, the manual safety has a second function as a decocker.
If you were in a dark room trying to be stealthy with this thing, you can’t just pull back the slide and ease the first round into the chamber because the round will tumble around and get stuck.
When you choose to chamber a round, don’t do it slowly. Rack that sucker like you’re John McLane. Sharks patrol these waters, amigo.
If you would like to buy the optimum weapon for home defense, purchase an inexpensive shotgun and several rounds of OO buckshot.
If you’d like to purchase a handgun for home protection, and you feel more comfortable with a manual safety, the Beretta PX Storm may be the perfect weapon for you.
The PX4 is very easy to disassemble and reassemble, perhaps even easier than a Glock.
There’s a flaw I’d like to point out with the PX4 Storm. If you would like to learn how to perform double-taps or master the art of accurate kill-zone rapidfire accuracy, don’t get the PX4 for these reasons:
1) Although you can pull the hammer back if you’d like, the single/double action may work against you on your first shot. There is a long, hard trigger pull, similar to a revolver on the first shot. Even though you’ve got a 17 round magazine (for the 9mm version), the most important shot (the first one) may be off if you’re not an experienced handgunner.
2) After your first shot, the trigger reset is abnormally long on this pistol. Without going into the details of trigger reset mechanics, if you happen to be a tactical guru who knows what a trigger reset is, then know that this particular peacemaker may not be an optimum choice for you. But you probably already knew that.
Shown with leather holster, handcrafted by Utah's Eric Larsen. Click on the image to view Eric's holster website, if you're into holster porn.
Corn tortillas vs. flour tortillas.
Simple. Always choose corn tortillas if you want a real taco.
If you’re a gringo, they’ll ask, “Harina o maiz”, (flour or corn?), because they think you want flour tortillas. If you’re not a gringo, they’ll say, “Maiz o harina”?
If you have trouble remembering the difference between “harina” or “maiz” then you are a gringo, so pick the one they don’t think you want. The second one. The good stuff.
Maiz (mah-yeez)
A few exceptions can be made. If they’re not making the corn tortillas right there in front of you, and they pull the tortillas out of a Fiesta bag, and the flour tortillas ARE homemade, then you may consider flour.
You also have the option of threatening the non-corn tortilla making lady with a Jarritos bottle until they learn how to make corn tortillas.
I am not advocating violence toward taco stand employees in any way, shape or form.
That is, unless they are not making fresh corn tortillas from scratch.
Taqueria Mi Jalisco
I started heading Northwest. Ended up on Fulton, then just kept cruising until I found a taco stand. It was a hot day, and I was kicking the Reggae Show on KTRU.
If the taco mecca is on Irvington, the taco graveyard is on Fulton. I found close to a dozen taco establishments that had closed down, including a Taco Zone, Taco Town, and Taco Loco (The Taco Loco was barely open).
When I got to Berry Street, I found a king-size, super shiny black taco truck called “Tacorrey”, which advertised “Sabor del Norte” or “Taste of the North”. I walked up to the front, and the owner was hanging out with a police officer. I waited at the front window for a few seconds and reviewed the menu. Nobody came to take my order, so I hit the bricks.
Walking back to my car, I saw a small white taco stand that glimmered in the sun like a Los Tucanes CD hanging from a rear-view mirror. It’s amazing that every huge taco truck has a smaller, better, and cheaper taco truck nearby.
Those aren't sunbeams. A good taco truck always looks like this.
I ordered three tacos; a suadero, a longaniza, and of course the al pastor. I tried to use my best Spanish, but since I was drooling all over myself, she had a hard time understanding me at first.
These were served with key limes, a grilled jalapeno, and a magnificent sweet grilled caramelized onion.Total cost was $3. Fantastic.
I’d like to go into a long, drawn out explanation of what suadero is and act like I already knew, but instead I found a blog by a fella named Ian Froeb who figured it all out for me. In other news, there are tacos in St. Louis. (Just kidding.)
Look, I stole Ian's cow chart.
This stuff is delicious. It was a little bit tough and charred (in a good way), and the fat content was significant. I knew on the first bite that I had a winner. This would be my favorite of the three tacos.
Next I had the longaniza. This meat is a lot like chorizo. This might sound awful on a taco by itself, but longaniza is more substantial than the chorizo you may have had in breakfast tacos. This was a good taco as well, though I wouldn’t want to eat more than one.
Then I got to the al pastor. I wasn’t happy with it, but when it comes to al pastor, I’m like one of those rock stars on The Smoking Gun with the 18-page backstage riders.
I’d like to add that these were not your ordinary double-stack corn tortillas. These weren’t processed into blandness like the tortillas you see in a grocery store. They were bright yellow, toasted, and tasted like corn. You know, like they’re supposed to.
The red salsa was oil-based, similar to the salsa found at La Mexicana on Montrose and Fairview. I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t crazy about it. The green stuff had a hummus-like texture, and had a “sink-in” spiciness that was nice and hot.
They were out of orange soda, so I ordered a coke. “Mexican Coke!” she said proudly, as she charged me the $2 gringo price. So Mexican Coca-Cola is made with real sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup. Big deal. But it is cool that you could crack a human skull with that Coke bottle without breaking it.
Then I realized that I had forgotten to take pictures of the tacos before I wolfed them down. Damn. I had to go back and buy some more suadero tacos so I could bring them home and take pictures for you.
Suadero tacos with key limes, grilled onion, jalapeno, cilantro, raw onions. Two bucks.
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