Garland Grabbers

Greetings, fellow taco connoisseurs. The Holiday Season nears, and DFWT wishes to express its thankfulness to all you who've been so encouraging and helpful. Specifically, a heartfelt shout-out to Nick and Evita who've kindly pointed us beefward despite reasonable convictions that might've led them to otherwise object. I'd also like to thank my parents for lovingly helping to keep my taco tank filled during these difficult recessive times. Likewise, we wish to thank the many hardworking taqueria employees who've tirelessly tolerated our picture-taking, question-asking, and oddball repeat visits necessary to dissect their offerings. Taco Round One feels a success, and we couldn't have made it this far without you.

Now onto taco talk. This week, we hone in on a pair of Go-Go-Taco kitchens that make their homes along the busy Broadway-to-1st Street strip in Garland. Anyone who knows this route is well aware of the plenitude of taco outlets that line the street. While there are numerous sit-down restaurantes along the route, specializing in everything from Yucatan-styled seafood to slow-simmered Oaxacan delicacies, the "gas station scene" here thrives like hives. Many of the taquerias here offer irregular fare, featuring daily especialidades rather than a standard menu. Chahhhhming, dear. Among these, I haven't found a bad taco yet, but here are some standouts.

Resist thee not.

First, a taqueria of UNKNOWN NAME (wicked), that's located at the intersection of Broadway and Centerville in a fueling depot appropriately labeled Taqueria Beer & Wine. Maybe some things are too good to burden with a name proper. If so, this joint qualifies. TB&W, as we'll call it, offers a select menu of tacos, a rather large burrito, a chicken salad purported to be the best in Garland, and even hamburgers. The burgers appear immensely popular, but Old Bull and I each tried them and agreed they leave desires. The tacos, however, are stellar and addictive. They're also a bitchin' bargain at only $1.29 each.  Featured daily, you'll find Americano-style beef and chicken, as well as "hardcore" varieties like chicharrón (made from pork rind), lengua (beef tongue), and corazon (that's heart, baby). The pork carnitas (fried meat) are among the best I've tried, and the barbacoa (in the city, meat wrapped in papel de mixiote and steamed) is always juicy and delighful. Interestingly, I've now twice tried to order corazon tacos and the cook won't give them to me, leaving me feeling like teenager carded for beer. Next time, I'm taking a Nican Tlacan friend to vouch for my desires. Despite its lack of faith in my palette, I really like this place. These are the most arromatic tacos around, aided by the pile of grilled onions and the giant GRILLED jalapeño that favorably replaces the standard nasty pickle jar variety. Yum. Again, the pork carnitas are tough to beat and the chicken tacos are nothing to shake a stick at.

Servicio con una Sonrisa

A mile down the road, tucked in a check-cashing quick-stop, we find Taqueria Diana, a fine little kitchen that serves up massive tortas, savory sopes, and tacos de cabeza de res (head tacos).  Diana has something special on the menu daily, and I recommend asking for it. Most recently, I had cabeza tacos stewed with cactus, and they completely converted my former cacti-shunning ways. All of Diana's tacos are piled high with condiments which usually consist of fresh cilantro, sliced radishes, and a grilled serrano (I think?) pepper. Service here is friendly, helpful, and efficient, though you've enough time to shop for lots of terrific imported Mexican snacks and beverages while you wait. Likewise, there are three or four tables at which you may wait or dine, depending on your agenda.

It's a fact-i love cacti. 

Diana's is located at 1815 S. First Street E. There's a Taco Bueno across the road, but I highly doubt they have cacti. Diana also has a second location at the One-Stop Shop over on West Walnut. We haven't made it over there yet, but give us time.

That's all for this week, kids. Please do stay tuned to our continuing saga. While we're obligated to minimize our taco intake in order to prep for the upcoming eating extravaganza next Thursday, we're sure to sneak in something spicy here or there. And if anyone knows where to find a turkey taco, let us know as I'd sure like to try one. We bid Peace and Harmony to all. Except turkeys--you guys are totally screwed.

Patience, Daniel-san

Thanks a ton for the initial wave of support given to us here at DFWT. We're always happy to hear feedback as well as taking suggestions for future taco rendezvouses. It's nice knowing the city (and beyond--heyo, Missouri & West VA) sports so many like-minded chili peppers, and we welcome you.

Likewise, a formal apology for the recent lapse in content. Life continues to happen outside the tortilla, but alas, tacos shan't be forgotten. Expect upcoming posts concerning a true institution of late-night DallasMex as well as a few reviews-in-brief profiling highlights within Garland's thriving taqueria-in-market scene. There's gonna be cheese, and there's gonna be cactus. DFWT is that rare firm that understands one sometimes need to sleep on the job. But not for long.

See you soon.

One too many.

Some Things About Mary

Like a Rainbow in the Dark

Perhaps Morgan Spurlock wouldn't be so panties-in-waddish had he chosen a better way to spend 30 days. I couldn't eat McD's even twice in a row, though to be fair, McD's did once hospitalize me. Maybe I'm biased. I'm definitely biased when it comes to my tacos, for I think there is little in life more consistently gratifying than squeezing a lime over those corn-rolled cuties and chowing with reckless abandon.

Mary's Restaurant is the newest jernt I've seen open for business within my daily traffic circle. I didn't make a trip across town to dine with Mary, but it's not like her place was simply the closest option either. Mary, for all practical purposes, legitimizes the need for a taco blog. Told you, it rains tacos in DFW. Someone has to give the weather report. I was nearby and hungry, and the blog begged for a quickie.

Mary knows you don't need a two-and-a-half acre plot with snazzy landscaping to sling tacos and beans. There are so many tiny, unassuming taquerias wedged into strip mall real estate that'll blow your freaking head off, that Mary's brightly colored, spacious slice of Garland strip mall splendor could almost pass as highfalutin. There are probably 15 to 20 tables inside, an air hockey table, and lots of games for the tots. Upon my inspection, the Grand Opening balloons were still taped to the wall, and the stack of menus appeared to be completely free of any salsa spills (ahem, too many taquerias, wipe your menus, thank you). I correctly assumed that I was about to catch Mary at her best behavior. 

The protons, the electrons, and the Nucleus.

Had a Tex-Mex style plate of beef tacos (combo. beans, rice, and condiment set-up). The tacos themselves were overall more Mex than Tex (corn v. flour, cilanto v. iceberg, 86 the queso), but for the record, I kind of feel like if it's Mex-inspired and Texas made, it's Tex-Mex. Much has been written about the authenticity of this cuisine when served on US soil, and I figure a good ten percent of it might even be true. I'm not really suggesting you go to Chi Chi's and order a cream cheese chimichanga should you wish to feel saucy, but let it be known that most cultural elitists who spend their time flaming other cultural elitists online are highly suspect of being misinformed douche tools, anyway. You know who you are. 

I digress...Mary's aight. Her corn tortillas were flavorful, supple, and commendable. Her beef was never frozen, and it chewed more like butter than squid. The beans were tasty (bless you, lard), but the rice was a bit "eh". If you enjoy dry rice, you might disagree with me. The hot sauce also left something to be desired--like, say, heat. It was unremarkable. In fact, the entire meal might have stayed comfortably in the "C" average zone were it not for the sheer surprise pleasure of stumbling upon the other wonderful condiments Mary served. Her guacamole was shut-my-mouth fine, zingy, zangy, creamy, and awesome. Likewise, the pico de gallo--a relish whose reputation is too often tainted by averagedom--was WTF yum. Upon closer inspection, I noted it contained a high jalapeno count, and the lime juice holding it all together seemed  fresh-squeezed from tree without the need for fruit removal.

I'd like to try more of Mary's cooking before officially grading her or anything quite that drastic. Based on my first visit, I can't recommend driving 20 miles to get here, but I'd certainly offer my nod if you're already in the area. It's a whatcha-see-is-whatcha get affair, an homage to the Tex-Mex of perhaps even better days (before it left Tex). The food's fresh, reasonably priced (my dinner was about eight bucks), and waiting for frijole fans to give them a shot.

Initial text. Photos and location detail to come.

Pump Taco

This is as good as any place to get started, so...

I was riveted to learn that Louisiana isn't the only State with killer munchies in its gas stations. Say huh? I know, I know...those of you from Texas wouldn't accept anything less. Those of you from shitty no-gas-station-food States have no idea what you're missing. Where I sprang from, you can whip into any convenience store, pump a few gallons, and walk away with fried catfish, shrimp, po-boy's, or even highly passable étouffées and gumbos. You can order alligator, too, but people from Louisiana don't really eat gator so much--we simply chuckle at the tourists who do. Anyway, it rocks. Also registering highly on the rocking meter are DFW's numerous 24-hour taco counters hidden behind the throngs of hungry folks in search of late-night tall-boys, treats, and a tank of gas. You might be forgiven for questioning the quality of such chow outlets, but Old Bull and I are here to set you straight. It's for your own good.

With apologies to this dude's head.

Fuel City, at I-35 and Riverview Blvd, seems to be the gas station taco Mecca of greater Dallas consciousness--and for good reason, too. This place might take some explaining. FC is kind of like an oasis of all things on-the-go, a truck stop/mega gas station towering at the edge of downtown Dallas. Its neon lights are visible from outer space, and there's more iced-down beer concentrated in its confines than in the entire state of Milwaukee (oh yes I did). Here you'll find half a dozen or so varieties of street-style tacos as well as a regionally infamous elote en vaso vendor (corn in a cup, dawg). Tacos are only a buck-forty, and the elote's cheap too, sold for a few bucks in three sizes. Wait-time is reasonable at about five minutes an order. There's even a police officer on duty to prevent you from getting conked on your noggin for your spare change. It's the little things that make a place a palace.

Bueno cuadrado.

On my first visit, I opted for a modest dos tacos. Uno picadillo y uno al pastor. Al pastor tacos remain for me the Holy Grail variety of all tacos, but ever the explorer of spiciness, I continue to try and enjoy other takes on tacos as well. Incidentally, this was my first time scarfing on a picadillo-style, and I'm pleased to say it now makes the short list. Old Bull saddled up to a pair of these pups as well, and before we could get the grease off our chins, we were marveling at the considerable spiciness packed into this high octane taco. Picadillo, roughly, is a mash-up of ground beef, potatoes, onion, garlic, cumin, chili, and other spices. Did I mention chili? Reach for your cervezas, taco lovers, and you'd better hope they're full. Overall, a success. The potato does a wonderful job of absorbing all the beefy renderings as well as putting a dent in your appetite. The flavor profile remains blanca enough to satisfy less adventurous palettes, but fear ye not, taco hounds, for Taco Bell this is not.

Bull's eye.

The al pastor was a smash, as well. For those not literate in Taco, al pastor is sort of like Mexico's gyro, only it's pork that's spit-roasted rather than lamb, and the meat is marinated for up to two days in a glorious combination of guajillo, pasilla, and/or ancho chilis, garlic, lime, cumin, pineapple juice, and who knows what else (word on the street is that the best vendors guard their al pastor recipes like a farmer guards his daughters). Obviously, a tortilla is the delivery vehicle instead of a pita. Corn or flour. Get the corn. The tacos are typically dressed with cilantro and chopped onions and usually topped with chunk of pineapple--but we still ain't done. On the side, you'll most likely find a pairing of red and green sauces, both of which are rocket fuel if you're lucky. FC's al pastor seemed a bit of a gamble, given the many taquerias dedicated solely and soulfully to the medium, but my suspicions melted away as the lime-chili emulsification did a Jarabe Tapatio in my mouth. The pork was hot and tender, the tortilla functional if not outstanding, and the condiments fresh and tasty. No frowns for these clowns. 


On a side note, this is was also my first stab at Mexican style elote. I couldn't resist. I paid $2.50 for a substantial serving of hot corn kernels, a few gallons of butter, Parmesan cheese, chili, and lemon-pepper all stirred up into a steaming cup of yum.

Corno porno.

I've no previous standard against which I might compare the concoction, but suffice it to say, it was enjoyed, and if buttered corn happens to be your thing, you should be all over this stuff.

Stay tuned, taco freaks. Fuel City has some stiff competition in the gas-and-a-taco market, and we're going to tell you all about it. There's even tongue involved. Until then, adios, amigos y amigas.

Welcome to Tejas

He came seeking opportunity. He stayed for the tacos.

A wandering Cajun boy, I recently re-re-relocated to Dallas, Texas, seeking a share of its uniquely fabled Lone Star fortune and adventure. Dallas defies preconceptions, and those ideas that do sneak through the cracks are promptly squashed upon arrival. It's a big and uniquely beautiful city, rather exhaustive in its possibilities and its variety of cultural offerings. One such delight with which I became immediately smitten was the complex and delicious Tejicana fare I discovered waiting to try in the many taquerías and cantinas that pepper the city's sprawling landscape.

"T" is for Texas, and me is for Taco.

Thing is, I'm ever-Jonesing for scrumptious south-of-the-border especialidades upon which my grub may be gotten. It also so happens that my best buddy from Dallas--a man who suffers me referring to him as Old Bull with fine temperament--well, he's found guilty of the same delicious crime as I. Once bitten, twice re-fried. Could the heat be on? Could be. Mutual interests were identified. Plans were made. Blogging about the food in question seemed like great fun and an opportunity to learn and to share neat shit we might find. Armed with eager appetites, a GPS unit, and a dream, we set out on a quest--a quest to find The Great Taco In The Sky, and not surprisingly, a whole bunch of other delicious eats along the way, too.

Incidentally, there is no #2.

The greater Dallas-Ft. Worth area (the DFW) boasts an incredible variety of Mexican and Tex-Mex cuisine. That now being said, we gotta point out what a ridiculous over-simplification such verbiage presents when considering the cuisine in question. Mexico ain't Delaware, and neither is Texas (with apologies to our friends in the First State). The region that birthed our Sacred Menu knows both expansive geography and history , and the truth is, Old Bull and Cajun T. are neither food critics, nor cultural anthropologists. They're gringos. And that's kind of the point. They enjoy learning nearly as much as eating, and both dudes are capable of incredible taco disappearing acts. Naturally, they wanted to document--even remember--the crowded market's finest fare. If a taco is eaten in the forest, someone ought to hear that sucker.

With apologies to these fellas.

So, bearing in mind that this is done with a mind for discovery as well as for burpin' and belly-pattin', allow us to tell you what we think about it all. Whether it's Tex-Mex, authentic Mex-Mex, dreamy Cali-Mex, or even corporate variety Pseudo-Mex, there's an abundance here to sample, and we'll see if we can't sort some things out for ourselves and other like-minded taco crusaders. There are a number of longstanding institutions here upon which many agree, but plenty of folks are also heard passionately plugging their own favorite lesser-known honey-holes they've discovered along the trail. With luck, we'll try far too many of them, and we'll share our notes in these pages.

The A-List.

 For the record, we ain't here to thoughtlessly rubber stamp reviews upon the the pack of our fair city's taco slingers and proprietors using one of those star-based ranking systems. Don't come here to find that so much as honest impressions and cross-sections of the culinary Mexi-verse that envelops our fine town(s). We pledge to never send you on a twenty-mile sojourn for a bad tortilla, but we do ask that you keep this in mind: we sure enough love this stuff. If you love it too, please check in with us for semi-regular updates, hungover rants, and Pepto-infused retrospection concerning the finest corn-rolled curiosities, sizzling skirts, and night-capping margaritas we can bring to you. Ole'.