I Ate a lot of Food in Mexico, But The Best Taco in the World?

Once again I was back in Mexico City and was literally overwhelmed with good food. Much of it this time around was of the homemade variety, as we jumped from one family affair to another--and even made a road trip around Central Mexico. The following are some highlights:

The first plate was an alambre to end all alambres from the semi-famous Tacos Copacobana of Southern Mexico City, my wife's family's go-to taco stop. Good alambres are hard to find in Denver, though I'm not sure why, as it is a really simple mix of chopped taco meat (in this case pastor), bell peppers, onion, and a couple meat essentials like bacon and salchichas (hot dogs). It is all grilled on a flat top with copious amounts of cheese until it forms a massive, delicious blob that is meant to be pulled apart in sections and rolled into tacos. Besides being simply incredible, this Copacabana version was enormous. I think I could have wrapped it over my equally enormous head (hat size 7 5/8-- I mean I have a really big dome) and wore it like a helmet: A greasy, delicious helmet that would protect me from being healthy.

On the opposite end of the spectrum of what is good about food from Mexico City was the next dish. A delicate, complex mole from Azul Condesa, one of four beautiful restaurants in the D.F. under the "Azul" name by Ricardo Muñoz Zurita. Chef Muñoz does brilliant job keeping the storied heritage of Mexican cuisine alive and thriving with minimal gimmickry and clear reverence for what is one of the world's truly great culinary heritages-- if not the greatest. 

I had a mole with roots in Oaxaca. It was black as the night but not anything like a typical bitter chocolate mole negro that might come to mind. No, the base of this mole was the ash of burnt Chile Chilhuacle. And like all great moles, it was full of paradox: while there was a clear taste of ash, nothing tasted burnt. And though after each bite was swallowed I could grind bits of ash between my teeth, the texture was smooth on the palette. It was incredibly subtle for how clearly complex it was, and had completely different tastes with each other food item on the plate: the beef, the grilled veggies, or the little chochoyones. Although a second trip to his restaurant proved disappointing, this was among the best plates of food I've ever eaten. 

We also took a road trip and stopped in the town of Leon, Guanajautao. You will probably never travel to Leon. It is most famous for being the leather and shoe capital of Mexico, and besides that there is at least one big car factory nearby. It reminds me a little of Detroit maybe for that reason, though the Leon GM plant continues to boom (ouch! sorry Detroit). If I have now sparked a yen in you to travel to Leon, you would not be disappointed at all if upon your arrival you stayed in the Hotel Hotson, which despite its hilarious and awkward name, is a top-notch hotel that has a low-key restaurant tucked in the back serving dynamite food. I was ready to hate the dish I ordered for being so outwardly wrong, and even though I tried to find something else to order, once I saw it on the menu I knew I would get it: Lasagna de Mole.

It was quite simple: lasagna noodles layered with shredded chicken and queso Oaxaca, all bathed in copious amounts of mole Poblano. My picture makes it look rather awful, and even without the blurriness of my photo, it wasn't much to look it. It might be best described as a mound. A mound with cheese and a single roasted tomato. It took my palette several bites to adjust to the texture of lasagna and the taste of pasta without a tomato sauce; and alternatively to rich mole without a crisp onion or a fried tortilla. I almost passed it off to my wife who had a enviable plate of enchiladas with mole de pipian, but when my feeble brain caught on to what this chef had brilliantly done I absolutely loved it. All lasagna should have mole. All of it.

We had barbacoa a couple times during this trip but one stop was notable as it is often mentioned as the best barbacoa in all of Mexico. Being the best barbacoa in all of Mexico is a lot like being the best sushi in Japan. That is, you might as well come out and call it the best in the world. And while calling anything the "best in the world" is essentially guaranteeing that it won't ever be the best at anything, this so-called title was laid upon Barbacoa Santiago by a bunch of food bloggers, so there is pretty much no credibility to begin with and therefore nothing to worry about. 

Were they the best tacos in the world? Of course not, simply because there is no such thing. But they are worth driving out of your way for if you are ever anywhere near them. In fact, they are somewhat conveniently located on a busy highway that leads north from Mexico City to Queretero.  Barbacoa Santiago was just one of dozens of giant roadside truck-stop sized food stands on the highway and could be easily overlooked. But unlike any truck stop I have ever known, these folks pit-roast whole lambs wrapped in banana leaves each day and serve them on fresh, fat, house-made tortillas alongside  fiery hand ground molcajete salsas. The best barbacoa is rich and fatty, simple and satisfying. On a chilly and rainy afternoon, the Barbacoa at Santiago's warmed my soul. It really was perfect. Even if you've never had barbacoa before, you would take one bite of these tacos and know that everything was done with the highest degree of care and quality. It's the kind of taco that reminds you how truly great a taco can be. 

So that's the best of it. From a dirty, street-style alambre (that actually did get my kid pretty sick I think), to fine dining with moles, to the best taco in the world a perfect taco. Here's to another year of good eating. 

Tacos y Salsas y Zombies: A Denver Taco Institution Opens Downtown

Saturday, October 22nd I found myself with my family and our friends on an evening stroll through the surreal and rather impressive gathering of zombies in the Denver Zombie Crawl on the 16th Street Mall. The Mall was literally packed with walking-dead look-a-likes, many head-to-toe in incredibly detailed costumes and make-up jobs. I imagine an entire evening of zombie impersonation requires one to be well-fed and more than a little drunk, and the surrounding bars and restaurants were overflowing with the undead. Hungry ourselves after our saunter, we decided to check out the newest  of the Tacos y Salsas branches (the eighth if you are counting) on Stout Street just off the Mall.

In contrast to the zombie mania just steps away, we walked into Tacos y Salsas and were greeted by a nice young lady who escorted us to a booth. But before we could sit down we were intercepted by an absolutely crazy--albeit friendly--employee who shook all of our hands and insisted that he knew me--get this-- from television. Although I can't say that this has happened ever before, I wasn't all that surprised, as I've always thought that my uncanny resemblance to the great LDP (or more likely, as I have confessed in another post, an older, creepier version of Cory Haim as Lucas) has potential to create confusion. Whatever the reason, after our initial greeting, each time he passed our table, he gave me several exaggerated winks and excited points, or winkpoints, and laughed in a half-maniacal, half-nervous manner.

I start every morning like this, too. 
Photo Source

Since Tacos y Salsas opened its downtown location earlier this year, I have been extremely happy to see what I view as a legitimate taqueria move to the Mall. Despite this, I have also been concerned that they would, for lack of a better expression, "gringo-up" the place, including the food. Our server, though he might have scared off both Mexicans and non-Mexicans alike, was case in point that Tacos y Salsas was not out to pander to what can be a mundane mix of tourists and business folk that frequent the Mall.

Guys on the back of the booth, hard at work. 

The decorations were another story. Many restaurants that market their food and services to those not accustomed to Mexican food with spice, depth or flavor often go overboard on the "Mexican" decor in order to presumably make up for their otherwise lack of Mexican-ness. In that vein, your first impression of the newest Tacos y Salsas branch might lead you to believe that they had gone this route in anticipation of a more bland clientele. But this place is beyond the typical Mexican-kitsch, and whoever was in charge of designing it went absolutely over the top. Every booth, table, chair and other adornment you can think of was a faux-ceramic creation featuring some "typical" scene from some "typical" pueblo in Mexico.

Lady on the table: elated with my salsa

If nothing else the visual impact was in itself stunning for the sheer assault of bright color, sombreros and serapes. And if that weren't enough (it was), along one wall running the entire length of the long space was a mural in the grandest of forms featuring as its centerpiece a lovely airbrushed woman under a Tacos y Salsas canopy tent.

The Tacos y Salsas Matron

If this were a conversation instead of a platform for me to endlessly rant and rave as I see fit, this would be where you, dear reader, might say something to the effect of: "Shut up and tell me about the food." Decoration and staff insanity levels can only tell one so much about a place, and what we all really want to know about the new downtown Tacos y Salsas location is: Did they change anything about their food?

I ordered pastor like I always do from Tacos y Salsas though I'm never sure why. It does come from a spit in their Federal and Colfax locations (though I didn't see one here), but it is chunky, not crisp and has a decidedly "adobada" flavor to it. Nevertheless the words just roll off my tongue when I am there (as they do in many other situations in my life, some less appropriate than others). Its taste and texture was the same as the other locations as far as I could tell which is OK, but still nothing all that special.

I also tried the barbacoa taco (beef not goat) and at first bite wished everything I ordered that night had this luscious, tender beef in, on or all over it. Although I can't compare it to the other locations (as for some reason I had never ordered this before), the barbacoa that night was phenomenal.

Although now usurped by the barbacoa, carnitas was one of my Tacos y Salsas staple meats. This night I ordered them in gordita form. It was slightly over-fried and was stuffed New Mexican-style with chopped lettuce, onions, tomatoes and a yellow-white mix of cheese. Not what I was expecting and not my favorite toppings for a gordita, but nonetheless it was good and--no surprise-- I ate it all.

By the end of our meal, the crazy man who knew me from television ended up being pretty much just another nice and mostly attentive server--that is, until it came time to pay. In classic Mexican market-stall fashion, when my friend and I started to hand him our cash to settle our $24 tab, he insisted that he didn't have change for our two twenties. In fact, when he spied the ones in my wallet (yes he was trying to look in my wallet) he asked me to hand them over. We explained that we were splitting the bill so would also have to split the change, but he just gave us a loud sigh and an exasperated look. Knowing this game all too well I shoved the two twenties into his hand, and though still annoyed, he pulled out an unwiedly wad of ones, fives and tens; and proceeded to count off our change with a look like he was doing us a favor. Ridiculous, but classic.

It is good to see from my small sampling that night that Tacos y Salsas has seemingly stayed true to the Mexican food (and its taco-stand anti-change-making roots) it is known for--even on the 16th Street Mall. It isn't the best taqueria around but it is all-round solid in its tacos and for a late-night joint downtown it simply can't be beat.

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After the meal we were lured back out onto the street to parade around in the growing madness of what seemed like even more zombies, by now all the drunker and more, well, zombie-like than before. It was pleasantly chaotic. From everywhere zombies were lurching, wrestling, moaning and--much to the displeasure of several tourists I saw (but not to our children)--jumping out from behind corners and startling whoever happened to be walking by.

Los Farolitos of Aurora Part I: Barbacoa

What took me so long to eat at Los Farolitos? Way out on North Peoria in Aurora, it is not exactly the most central location, but that stretch of road is home to some of my favorite Denver-area restaurants and just a few weeks ago I sped right past Los Faorlitos on my way to one of them. My wife has always been intrigued by the "Estilo DF", or "Mexico City Style" that it touts. A reader urged me to make the trip long ago to check out its bountiful buffet and barbacoa. Whatever the reason, I never did go. But as the saying goes, good things come to those who procrastinate. And my procrastination ended the other night when I finally parked under the thin yellow glow of Los Farolito's storefront lights and opened the door to step inside.

Our first trip was around eight on a Friday night. There were two tables finishing up when we entered, and it looked like the staff was getting ready to lock up, but they greeted us with warm smiles and insisted that we sit down to eat. The man who first brought us menus immediately engaged us in friendly conversation. He and his family are not originally from Mexico City, but they lived many years there and he knew it well. While I scanned the extensive six pages of menu items he and my wife reminisced about the city known also as Chilangolandia. Satisfied after each triangulated the other's barrio and residencia, their conversation slowed and we ordered some drinks.

My wife was excited to find Tepache on the menu. Tepache is a drink made from fermented pineapples and is increasingly hard to find even in Mexico. She immediately got that far-way nostalgic glow in her eyes that only comes from recalling the best of childhood food memories-- so of course we ordered some. It is non-alcoholic and typically only fermented a few days with things like piloncillo and water. It is sweet, lightly fizzy, has the mildest hint of alcohol and is incredibly refreshing.

Being so late this Friday, the infamous Farolitos buffet was closed, and would have to wait until another day. Instead, in a moment of rare decisiveness and clarity, I made the easy choice of ordering the Barbacoa. My wife, on the other hand, struggled with her decision, overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of  menu items. She hemmed and hawed before finally ordering a huarache, that most giant, sandle-like fried piece of masa.

The Barbacoa at Los Farolitos is masterful. Barbacoa is traditionally a sheep cooked over coals in a pit dug into the ground. I didn't ask how it was prepared here, but it was so good that I wouldn't be surprised if they dug a secret hole back out in the alley behind Peoria. It was a moist, fatty, ample-sized leg of lamb; so tender it was falling off the bone.

As you can see it was literally sitting in a pool of its own succulent juices. It was served with a traditional array of onion, cilantro, limes, tortillas, a creamy chipotle-ish salsa and, of course, the rich broth.

Under that foil is some of the best Barbacoa you will have in this town

The broth was deeply rich; thick with the taste of marrow and slowly stewing bones. The flavors were layered but incredible simple. Aside from a sprinkling of herbs, a few stray chunks of lamb and a handful of hominy, it was all about the broth, which is a meal in itself. It is best with the juice from at least one lime, which cuts through some of the fatty richness.

It is such a memorable and blissful experience to eat food that has been prepared with the care and culinary genius of this broth. Each slurp was special. And many slurps were accompanied with a bite of incredibly tender leg of lamb, that like the broth was rich, fatty and absolutely melt-in-the-mouth wonderful. Or a bite of a barbacoa taco with all the fixings.

The barbacoa really is that good. And with barbacoa this good the huarache (literally, the sandal), though huge and tasty itself was an afterthought I admit. In an earlier post I reported that the huarache at another restaurant approached the enormity of an actual sandal fit for basketball freak and legend Shaq Fu. Well clearly I exaggerated then, so to keep everything relative-- both in scale and level of exaggeration-- this huarache would be worthy of Sasquatch himself.

But of course, like in a spit of pastor, it isn't size that matters in the world of fried masa dough. It was a good huarache that would be reason enough to make the trip here. The carne deshebrada was moist and fresh-tasting, the chorizo was, well chorizo (that is always good), and the dough was crisp on the outside but soft on the topping surface. We did our best to finish it but the richness of the barbacoa made it tough. In the end it looked like this:

The barbacoa on the other hand, disappeared completely.

Los Farolitos (formally El Farolito--the more the better) has already made it on my growing list of favorites in this part of town. It was a wonderful trip that resulted in a return trip the very next morning for a ridiculous amount of buffet eating. Stay tuned as I continue to battle with my busy non-blogging life and I'll have that posted before too long. 

Sabor de Mexico: Get Your Tongue On

Just like Denver's many other anonymous taco trucks, El Sabor de Mexico sits patiently in a parking lot waiting for you to stumble upon it. There is really no telling if it will be good or bad. Hungry, I stopped in to see for myself while wandering home late on a Friday evening, after a way-too-long day of taking it from the man.

El Sabor de Mexico (The Taste of Mexico) has been around for no more than a few months on the corner of Montview and Clinton in Aurora. It takes the place of the taco void left by Taco Truck Los Dos Hermanos, which used to park across the street, and was a favorite of mine. Sabor de Mexico sits in an old gas station lot under the roof where the pumps once were; complete with a picnic table and chairs for your dining comfort and convenience. Like Los Dos Hermanos, the owners hail from Zacatecas, Mexico. Also like Los Dos Hermanos they make a tongue taco that is worth driving across town for. The main difference is that Sabor also has a full menu of tacos, tortas, sopes, huaraches and weekend specialties like Menudo, carnitas and Barbacoa.

But back to the tongue taco. The tongue here is melt-in-your-mouth soft. The flavor is also wonderfully prominent, not getting lost under the onion, cilantro, salsa and the shredded beef I think they mix in. It is likely that you would push aside your own mother to get at one of these tacos. Or likewise, in the common quandary of this taco and your mother hanging from the side of a cliff and you having only one hand to save one of them--you would certainly choose your mother-- but only because you would know that the taco would survive the fall and you could just climb down the cliff, blow off the dirt and eat it anyway. It is pretty much that good, and though I have been known to exaggerate (see what I said about this chicken liver mousse), if you are a tongue fan like me, I recommend eating here as soon as possible.

Asada, carnitas, pastor, tongue

I've been back now several times and I've found that the barbacoa is just as good. Barbacoa can be many things: cows head, a whole sheep or goat. The idea is that is slow cooked, like its north of the border counterpart, barbecue. At Sabor de Mexico it is lamb. Fatty, juicy pieces of lamb shredded on a taco; tender and richly flavored. The best results will be on the weekends when it is fresh made.

Also fresh most Saturday mornings about 10 am are the carnitas. By Tuesday and all week long they are a little dry--but the good flavor is there, and doused in either the very good red or green salsa, it is still a good taco de carnitas. Fresh made, it is one of the better tacos de carnitas I've had in Denver.

The tostada with tinga (pulled chicken bathed in a chipotle sauce) is also excellent. All the ingredients---beans, cream, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, salsa-- are laid on thick and tasted fresh. The asada is average, and probably not worth getting with all the other great options. The pastor is a joke. Literally, they might have been playing a joke on me: un-marinated and dry pork bits grilled with pineapple and chipotles. But even with this grave misrepresentation of what pastor is, the tongue and barbacoa are so good that this truck still comes highly recommended.

There are quite a few menu items painted on the side of the truck that are not available as the husband and wife team are just beginning to see what sells and what doesn't. Apparently the pata (feet) are no longer an option (much to my wife's dismay) because no one actually ever ordered it (except for my wife). And the pozole is no longer there. They were also out of adobada when I last visited. And my precious lengua (tongue) seems to run out more often than not, but the pattern seems to be that it is fresh and ready to go at the end of the week and into the weekend.

If you are coming from across town give a call first, 720-206-7291, but mostly they seem to be consistent everyday sometime in the afternoon until about 8pm. Tacos are large, come with two tortillas and cost $1.25.