It’s not Taco Tuesday, but let’s talk tacos anyways. Living in Southern California I’ve always believed we have the best tacos outside of Mexico. I know I’m not the only one who subscribes to the theory that Mexican food goes down in quality the further away you get from the border. I’ve had tacos in New York that were barely edible.
In fact, I used to be a snob about tacos. I want a tiny warm corn tortilla filled with carne asada or lengua or even cabeza, topped off with cilantro and onion, with a splash of salsa. Bringing me a hard shell, cheese, and ground beef was like spitting on a plate and serving it to me.
From hand battered and deep fried fish to freshly carved al pastor with a slice of pineapple, I love tacos of all types. Bonus points if I can get grilled green onions, a smoky jalapeno, and a fistful of radishes on the side.
I was thinking about how my taste buds have changed over the years. I used to be the guy that would drown any kind of Mexican food in salsa. The hotter the better. Now, I want to enjoy the taste without breaking into a sweat.
And maybe I’m mellowing in my old age, but those hard shell tacos with the ground beef and golden cheese? I’ll eat them, if I’m in the right mood, which means if I’m feeling nostalgic for the tacos from my youth, served at my non-Mexican friends’ homes. The tacos I’d eat after baseball practice at the snack shack. Or the rare occasion when I found myself at a Pup ‘N Taco or Naugles.
But if given a choice, gimme those tacos from a truck or, even better, from some pop-up roadside stand after a night of cocktails and shenanigans.