Tacos de Trompa con Victoria at Guadalajara Authentic Mexican Buffet

A few weeks ago on a Saturday I left my house without my wife and without my kids. It was a moment to celebrate as it was my first night out with a couple friends since my boys were born--never mind that my "night" lasted from about 5:00 in the afternoon until 8:00 in the evening, when after eight tacos and two Victorias I was thoroughly and utterly spent. But this post isn't about my exciting night life, but rather--as is often the case on my blog (and life)-- it is about a taco.

Thanks to Lori Midson, the versatile and talented Westword food-writer who also happens to share a passion for great tacos (and know her way around some of Denver's finer taco spots), our first stop that night was Guadalajara Authentic Mexican Buffet. Located in a complex on East Colfax that also includes the Fruteria Guadalajara and the Panaderia el Molino (both worth a stop), the buffet, as implied in the name, is the main attraction here and indeed looked enormous and enticing. I made a mental note to return in the future to sample its plenitude, but then made my way to the back where they were slinging a taco that Lori Midson pegged as one of Denver's 100 best dishes for 2011: the pig snout taco.

I have sampled a lot of parts of the pig in taco form. When I first would visit the woman who would later become my wife in her native Mexico City, one of her favorite pastimes was to take me to markets like the Mercado de Tlacoquemecatl and feed me taco after taco of unidentifiable pig (and cow) parts.

In Mexico, like many other parts of the world not in the United States, the "head-to-tail" philosophy is not a growing trend, but rather an old tradition and way of life. In these trips we ate literally everything from head to tail, or in our case ojo (eye) to nana (uterus). Imagine if you will the iconic image of a young couple sharing their first milkshake: straws crossing and lips meeting for the first time-- replace the milkshake with a half-dozen tacos of unidentifiable offal and you get a snapshot of our courtship. Now you can see why I fell head over heals--literally-- over tacos de cabeza and tostadas de pata.

The taco counter in the back of the Guadalajara Authentic Mexican Buffet sells meat by the kilo but will also make you individual tacos from whatever they have. We ordered a variety that included carnitas, pastor, buche and of course, trompa.

The pastor did not come from a spit as far as I can tell and as was to be expected was forgettable. It wasn't bad but was more like adobada than pastor. The carnitas on the other hand were divine. I just had a bite of one, but agreed with my tablemates that they were some of the finest carnitas I have had in Denver: moist and rich with flavor.

Next I had a taco de buche. Buche is pig stomach, or more specifically esophagus. Like most tripe it can have a chewy texture, though when well-prepared as it was here it was succulent, soft and big chunks of digestive tract piled high on a corn tortilla. I ordered two, and though the first was good, I had to save room for what I came here for, so I took one home to my wife. (Note: re-heated buche is not all that good the next day.)

Finally what we had come here for: the pig's snout taco. Indeed as advertised by Lori Midson it was an amazing taco. The snout, or trompa, had a texture like that of slowly braised pork belly. The taste was salty--but not too salty-- and smoky almost like Canadian bacon but with extra bits of fat. It was a fantastic taco.

Oink. Oink.

With our tacos we had a round of Victorias. My first taste of Victoria in the US. While every other beer from Mexico's two mega-breweries has always been imported into the US, Victoria's slogan has always been "Es Nuestra", or "It's ours". I guess it is a sign of the times that Victoria is finally being sold in the US-- and as the Mexican population continues to boom, "Es Nuestra" takes on a whole new meaning stateside (Think George Lopez instead of George Clinton singing: "Gainin' on ya!" ). I have to admit, however, that although I have always said Victoria is my first choice of the many Mexican lagers, it somehow tasted not-quite-as-good knowing that it is now available in the States. It's funny how that works sometimes.

I'm not sure where I would put this taco de trompa on my list of top 100 favorite foods as I get confused counting once I run out of fingers and toes. That being said, it is one of the better tacos I have had in Denver and I will now make it a regular stop on my Aurora circuit-- a list that is growing longer and longer.

Sue of Siam, Now Ban Thai, Still All Thai Smiles

Take out is slowly replacing going out as my new adventures with baby twins continue. I've been craving Thai for a while, and although not exactly the closest Thai place to my home, I recently had my mind set on the homemade Thai tastes of Sue of Siam on Del Mar Circle and Peoria in lovely Aurora. It had been a while since I been in these parts--and I was never what you would call a regular-- but one thing I remembered well about Sue of Siam was being greeted by the smiling Suni and her family. You can imagine my surprise then, when I walked in a couple weeks ago to find Sue of Siam without its main attraction: Suni herself.

It turns out that despite the signs outside still advertising the authentic Thai cuisine of Sue, she has since retired and sold the business to another family. So instead of being greeted by a smiling Suni or her daughter, I was received by an older couple watching Wheel of Fortune-- also all smiles--who proceeded to tell me how they bought the place from Suni a couple years ago. Like I said: not a regular.

The only other change in the restaurant besides the new name, Ban Thai (on the menu only), is a large freezer that hums loudly in a corner. Otherwise, this new smiling Thai couple had left the dining room as it was--that is, relatively sparse save for a few portraits of the Thai royal family. They also seem to have inherited the same customer base. Sue of Siam was never packed, in fact more than once my wife and I were the lone diners there on a weekend night, and though there must have been enough loyal regulars to keep it up and running, they never seemed to go there on the weekends. Ban Thai was as empty as I always remember Sue of Siam being.

I ordered my food from what essentially seemed like the same menu save one item: a duck dish that I absolutely loved but didn't see listed. I asked for it. I couldn't remember clearly what it was, but the husband half of the team just nodded, said something in Thai to his wife who was already in the kitchen and turned back to me, smiling: "Duck Curry."

He must have sensed my doubt that his wife would cook this dish as well as Suni because he immediately began explaining to me how all the recipes were the same as when Sue's was open. He then motioned for me to sit at the counter and poured me a tall glass of green tea. "Cold outside," he said.

It was indeed cold that night and the tea was perfectly brewed, simple and just what I needed to wind down after a long day of twin-raising. He must have also known the look of man worn out from child-rearing, because the next words from his mouth were, "You have children?"

"Yes," I told him, "Twin boys."

And before I had the time to say anything else his omnipresent smile grew even bigger as he put the fingers and palms of both hands together under his chin and said, "Ice cream."

He pulled out the menu and pointed to where it read "Coconut Ice Cream" and, with a smile said: "They like ice cream," as if it were an obvious fact rather than a question.

"Yes," I told him, not wanting to take away from the generosity of this gesture by telling him that my boys, only six weeks old at the time, wouldn't know ice cream from the shit in their own diapers, "Yes, they do."

After all, I was having a proud father moment. This was the first time I had ever been able to respond in the affirmative to a stranger that I was indeed a parent, and in a roundabout way-- that is, through my wife's breast milk-- the boys would be getting a taste of that ice cream eventually.

He hurried over to the freezer, pulled out a tupperware container and then disappeared behind the kitchen counters. I smiled and sipped on my tea, and for a few minutes found myself perfectly relaxed for the first time in weeks; feeling warmed, welcome and-- with the sounds of noodles frying in a wok and the aromas of Thai chiles coming from the kitchen-- hungry.

He came back out with a scoop and starting piling the ice cream in to a take-out container. He told me it was homemade, one of the items that he and his wife added to the menu. I joked to him that the ice cream might not make it home because it looked so good. "I know," he said, reading my mind once again. Then he smiled and showed me the spoon he put in the bag, "I give you your own spoon for the car."

It did make it home... but look how good.

I chatted some more with this kind-hearted Bangkok native, and he listened patiently to me tell him about the time my wife and I were in Bangkok and how much we loved it. Meanwhile Wheel of Fortune had turned to Jeopardy and my food was ready to go. I almost didn't want to leave, because despite the barren space of this lonely location it continues to be a comfortable and relaxing place.

Driving home I did try to figure out a way to shift gears and eat the ice cream while not killing anyone on East Colfax, but I decided it couldn't be done. When I got home my wife and I immediately set in on the bounty that was our first take out since the boys were born.

The first dish that we tore into was the duck curry. The duck was well-roasted and once likely had nice crispy skin but it was a little on the chewy side in this dish. Otherwise it was an excellent and unique combination of sweet and spicy with big colorful chunks of pineapple, green bell pepper, tomatoes and grapes. The strong aroma of Thai basil tied it all in together and it was an overall great bowl of curry.

My wife for whatever reason is not a big fan of duck, so even though it was a little redundant, we also had ordered a pineapple curry, which was always my wife's favorite Sue of Siam dish. This one came with pork (pork and pineapple of course one of my favorite combinations) and though not as rich (or good, in my opinion) as the duck, it was just as I remember from Suni's days.

The pad Thai was where Ban Thai fell short when compared to Suni as far as I can remember. Although to be fair we ordered it mild (breast milk thing) versus always having had it spicy in the past which I admit is a lame way to eat pad Thai. Even after I tried to spice mine up with some red Thai chile-garlic sauce it was still a little bland and forgettable.

The drunken noodles with beef were solid. I had been told to also order mild with this dish, and I thought I did, but they were rather (refreshingly) spicy. That only meant more for me, and I happily devoured as much as I could after eating my fill of duck curry.

The coconut ice cream was absolutely amazing. Rich in wonderful creamy coconut flavor but light and airy in texture. Like any great dessert it was somehow easy to stuff in our faces even after eating more than our fill of curry and noodles. We did the best we could to save some for later, but we all know how that goes.

The food at Ban Thai might not quite be everything that it once was under the masterful hand of Suni, but the tradition of a warm and inviting place for comfort Thai continues. So even with the ownership changes, it is still a good option for Thai food with great prices.

First Fridays With Tacos al Pastor: Museo de las Americas and Toluca Mexican Restaurant

Needless to say, as my life continues to revolve around the every want and need of two beautiful little boys, my going-out-to-eat-life has suffered dearly; and even though I have been peed on more in the last two months than all of R. Kelly's teenage girlfriends combined, I move forward with a degree of love and devotion that I have never known before.

Take this example: Two nights ago I received an email about 7pm from a man with a picture of four incredible-looking tacos al pastor that he reported were just shaved off the spit and given to him (without being grilled a second time) on the street in front of the Museo de las Americas. Now normally this sort of email would be my bat-signal: I would have slid down my bat pole and rocketed off in my 1995 4-cylinder station wagon. But alas, I don't even keep the bat-pole greased anymore, as the spontaneous decision-making that has dictated my life up until now takes a backseat to new and exciting-- albeit at times overwhelming-- responsibilities.

That being said, just because I am lovingly chained at times to a crib and changing table doesn't mean that you out there reading this blog shouldn't continue to go out an enjoy life, so I thought I would share this important taco-al-pastor-related news flash. 

According to this reader, these tacos are from a taqueria called Toluca in Westminster near 92nd and Lowell, which when out on the road is called El Divino. I had actually been tipped to this location last year, but when I called them they said they didn't have their pastor on a spit. One look at the following picture and it was clear that there was some sort of grave miscommunication.

Now that is art worthy of a First Friday art walk. (It is also clear that this reader is a much better photographer than me.) Allow me to continue to live vicariously for a moment through his words: 

I'd probably say these are the best tacos Al Pastor that I've had in Denver...the meat is cut directly off the spit into a tray as you order and is loaded directly on to your tortillas. The tortillas were quite good but the meat was definitely the star of the show with a nice flavorful marinade and good marbled texture. Slices are thin, which I like, and they are generous with how much goes on the tortillas. I had a plate of 4 tacos with fresh pina (unfortunately not on top of the spit) for $5...Ultimately, I enjoyed the hell out of the tacos so I have no complaints.

Tantalizing, no? Apparently there is a good chance that the Museo de las Americas will bring El Divino back for the next First Friday, so mark your calendars and cross your fingers that your art-and-wine-filled walk on May 6th (that is Cinco de Mayo weekend--could get interesting) will culminate in eating from this towering sculpture of marinated meat. 

The Cultural Crossroads of South Havana: Tacos de Canasta at El Costeño

When driving through Aurora I am always craning my neck to peer into every strip mall I pass trying to see if there is some new or overlooked restaurant advertising some sort of enticing cuisine having its origins in another country. And although this can create some reckless driving scenarios in the best case scenarios, in the past it has paid off, like being introduced to the Taco Vampiro in an empty lot on South Havana. The other day I was on this same strip of Havana with my wife, speeding off to some destination or other, lost in deep thought, or a daydream-- or more likely just lost-- when my wife blurted out: "Tacos de Canasta!"

Hearing the words "Tacos de Canasta", or better, having them yelled in your ear while speeding down a six-lane thoroughfare will inevitably result in spontaneous braking and veering, and this time proved to be no exception. Luckily I had sped out in front of the cluster of traffic from the last stoplight and so I had plenty of time to hit the brakes, cross three lanes of traffic and pull a U-turn before the oncoming cars were able to mow us down. I then had just enough time to cross the other three lanes and swerve into Stevo's Pizza and Ribs.

I pulled up next to Stevo's excellent Volkswagen bug complete with mohawk. Stevo's, for those of you that don't know, is a pizza joint on South Havana that among other things will deliver food from other restaurants (for a fee) and also will pay you $100 for you and friend to eat a pizza that doesn't look like it would be that hard to eat.

Maybe you have to eat the box

It wasn't Stevo and his pizzas that we were her for, however, but the tacos that were advertised on large banners outside. In fact we were not even greeted by Stevo (or the Stevo employee at the register), nor were we addressed in English. I'm not sure if we had the look of tacos in our eyes (we did) but it was a man behind a second register who adressed us-- in Spanish.

He immediately saw the confused look I wore (I always wear this look) and began to explain the half- American pizza, half-Mexican taco concept, which it turns out was not so much a concept as it was a necessity. In order to survive in this restaurant-killing economy, Stevo started sharing his restaurant space with our affable host who runs an entirely separate operation he calls El Costeño. "Even the Gabachos," he told us in Spanish with a smile as he nodded toward the man I am calling Stevo, "Need help these days."

And for the brief time we were in Stevo's it did seem like El Costeño was doing more than its share to keep Steveo's afloat. Not a single customer came in for ribs or pizzas, while several filed in and out with Mexican food in hand. The fact that the TV was even tuned in to a Spanish news station may be an indication that Stevo and his ribs are being overshadowed by the Mexican crowd.

This of course, in my mind, is what makes our country so great--not that an immigrant entrepreneur can outdo his American counterpart--but that one restaurant has survived only through uniting two different cuisines and cultures. What can be more American than that?

Outside of Stevo's was an image that sums up this idea of America best: the banner advertising the tacos de canasta sitting under an enormous American flag that was flying over a dealership selling Japanese cars.

But back to those tacos. Tacos de canasta (basket tacos) are a type of steamed taco not unlike another favorite of mine, al vapor; but unlike tacos al vapor which are oft-filled with steamed and shredded beef, tacos de canasta are known for their variety of fillings. Tacos de canasta are a very typical street food in Mexico City (hence the yelling from my wife) that I've never seen before in Denver (hence the swerving and sudden U-turn). They are usually sold from a plastic-and-towel-lined basket on the back of a bike, and are uniquely suited for this portable vending because they can be cooked at home and then continue to steam (and stay hot) in the basket. The result is a fall-apart soft tortilla, usually glistening with the oil and grease of its flavorful fillings. It can be a nice break from its heavier taco counterparts, and because they are prepared quite often I imagine in someone's home, they have a comforting homemade taste to them.

I've always assumed that this taco originated in the DF, whose crowded city streets seem made for tacos slung out of the back of bicycles. Actually, to be perfectly honest I've never thought about where tacos de canasta might be from until eating at El Costeño. Our host that day shared with us a plethora of unsolicited (yet interesting and useful) information about these tacos. Apparently they originated and still primarily come from a small town about an hour outside of Mexico City, San Vicente Xiloxochitla (say it: Chi-lo-chi-tla). He told us how thousands of tacos are meticulously prepared in this mountain town every night with vendors travelling as far as the capital city every day to hawk their goods at strategically placed, pre-determined regions of the city (that is, everywhere). And while he is actually a costeño, or coastal man, from Acapulco, he insisted that this was true. In fact he told us he fights about this with customers on a regular basis who come in with the idea that this taco was born in their native Mexico City. "Look it up on the internet", he told me, over and over.

I didn't search hard enough to get to the bottom of the debate, but I did verify what he told us about the first Sunday in December, where the Feria de Tacos de Canasta is held to celebrate the 80-year history this taco shares with San Vicente, where at least 50 percent of the people earn a living by selling this taco. At last year's feria, they gave away 100 thousand tacos to eight thousand people. And while the Feria de Tacos is now on near top of my bucket list, the only thing that I was wondering about after he was done talking to us was how well this costeño made tacos de canasta.

He's got the basket... good sign

We each got an order of five in order to sample all five fillings offered. The tacos came out in a matter of seconds (as they should) and were gleaming in grease (also as they should). We sidled up to the salsa bar which was pretty standard except for one thing: Guaje. Gauje, or huaje, are the seed pods of the acacia tree and are used all over Mexico to flavor salsas, moles and even as a garnish.

The guaje seed is sort of like a lima bean, and in my taco de mole added some interesting texture, but any flavor was lost in the intense and wonderful mole. The guaje was not bad, but one thing I love about tacos de canasta is the fact that they are baby-food soft, so anything that messes with that has to go.

The chorizo and papa that I tried next was equally as good. This classic blend of creamed potato mash with chunks of spicy chorizo sausage was faithfully executed and full of flavor.

My favorite had to be the taco de chicarron. Its no secret that fried pig skin is a favorite of mine, but all soft and oily with what I think was epazote-- it was divine. If Stevo would fill that pizza box with these tacos I wouldn't need a friend to get that hundred bucks.

It turns out that this costeño makes a fantastic taco de canasta. Each taco was brilliant, even one made with nothing more than refried beans, which I loved as an example of a taco at its pure, simple best.

My afternoon at El Costeño reinforced another of life's valuable lessons: reckless driving and spontaneity often reaps tasty rewards. I highly recommend a trip over to Aurora to sample these well-made and true-to-the-original versions of a Mexico City (and San Vicente Xiloxochitla) classic in this born-of-necessity pizza, rib and taco joint. And speaking of the bad economy, after you get warmed up on five tacos, that pizza-eating contest looks like easy money.

All-V's, LDP and Me: The Subs of All-Varieties

As I have alluded to before, if they ever made a movie about me (or more realistically if some pseudo-dramatic event in my life was shamelessly re-created for a television show in the tradition of casting actors that are much better looking than their real-life counterparts) I would insist that my role be cast by none other than the great LDP. I am of course referring to the under-appreciated talents, dreamy eyes and flowing locks of the man also known as Lou Diamond Phillips, who despite his perennial casting as Hollywood's favorite Chicano and/or Mexican is decidedly (half) Filipino (like me). When I first mentioned this in a post last year I also mentioned something about casting LDP with his classic Young-Guns-mullet look and these days, when my life allows time for little else than things related to two squirming babies, that Lou-do comes alarmingly close to representing my hair, as it has been over two months since I've been to the barber.

I mention this because on a truly special occasion a couple of weeks ago I was headed out of the house to do something besides visit the pediatrician, buy diapers or shop for groceries: I was headed to the barbershop. The Tonsorial Parlor (as mine is proudly named) might not seem like an exciting event for many people (those people don't have newborn twins), but even before my social life got somehow even more boring and reclusive than it was before my boys arrived, I always loved my trips to the barber-- and as it becomes a harder and harder to find real barbershops, I really do cherish my time there.

Next to Obrien's Tonsorial Parlor is All-Variety Subs. All-Vs is a greasy hole-in-the-wall that used to faithfully serve the populace of the former University of Colorado Medical campus before it moved East to Aurora. It is easy to miss tucked in between my Parlor and a nail-painting place. In fact even though I come here about once a month, I couldn't have even told you if All-Vs was still open or not; and since the medical school exodus must have taken with it most of their business, I was pleasantly surprised to still see it up and running.

There is nothing fancy (at all) about All-Vs and maybe nothing that would have you rushing across town to eat here, but from what I remembered, they made a solid sandwich and always stacked it high with whatever toppings you ordered. I ordered an old favorite of mine: the chicken and avocado sub with bacon.

I was disappointed right from the beginning. The chicken looked like it had been out all day and re-heated on the grill more than once. It tasted that way too: dry and rubbery on the inside, tough and crusty on the outside. Also the bread was starting to get stale. On the upside, there was an ample serving of avocado (there is at least a half avocado on this sub) and it was fresh; and bacon is bacon, so that was good. Still there isn't much upside when you start with stale bread and dry chicken. Sad and disappointing that an old standby like All-Vs was letting me down like this.

After leaving I got to thinking about why my sandwich was that bad. I checked the time because I had to be home soon. I was late as usual, it was already four thirty in the afternoon. I suppose stale bread and dry, re-heated chicken isn't unusual for going to a lunch place over two hours after the lunch rush ended-- especially when that lunch place has lost most of its business over the last few years. I vowed even with the little time I have left for myself lately, to return. I hate to hate on a place after only one visit.

I'm glad I returned. It was a quick stop on a weekday right at noon when my wife and I were passing by on our way to Target or some other baby-supply-having place. I was right about the lull left in place from the medical school move: when years ago there was a line out the door, now there was one lone diner in the far corner munching on some chips. No one else came in while we were ordering or waiting for our food.

This time I got the Avocado Gobbler sub, which is just like the chicken sub I had earlier but with turkey slices. It too came with a generous amount of fresh avocado and big chunks of bacon. Everything was fresh this time and I smashed down the overflowing toppings, cramming it in my mouth and absolutely devouring my half in the time it took me to walk back to the car. That is the All'V's I remember: copious use of fresh ingredients, good flavor combinations and good value (this sub is less than five bucks). The fact that the bread wasn't going stale was a bonus too.

What I also like about All-Vs are the old-school condiments on the sandwich counter. After they call your name but before they wrap your sub in sandwich paper, you have the choice of red wine vinegar, olive oil, parmesan, crushed red pepper, oregano, salt and black pepper. I sprinkled on some vinegar, parmesan and oregano on the Italian sausage and meatball sub we ordered before they wrapped it up to go. This sub made it to the car before I got my mouth around it. Satisfying, big chunks of meatballs and an entire Italian Sausage made up the majority of this sub; the former moist and homemade-tasting, the latter flavorful though not spicy in the least. All of it covered in a good marinara sauce and melted mozzarella.

Now keep in mind I am not necessarily endorsing that you drop everything and make for All-V with any sort of quickness, but I will say that this is great, albeit more or less forgotten little sub shop that I would venture to say most of the time still makes a worthy lunch. With the economy how it is and the fact that business is slower than ever at All-V's, I will continue to avoid the off hours in the future as (who can blame them) they stretch their bread-buying dollar further. That being said, if you too are feeling the effects of the economic downturn your dollar goes far here, and if you find yourself around Colorado and Eighth with a hankering for lunch, skip the rest of the chains you will find around there and give All-V's a try.