Tonight I took a trip south of the border, because nothing says Happy St. Patrick's day quite like a plate of tacos. Instead of spilling green beer all over ourselves at a crowded bar, my husband and I opted to visit a famous taqueria and stuff ourselves silly. The tacos there are legendary; when the owner rolls open the door at 6pm, he is greeted by a small crowd eager to get in on some hott taco action. Then the party starts.
We took seats at the bar and our friend commenced ordering in a rapid exchange with the chef. The chef nodded, greeted the gringos with a smile, and stopped slicing avocados just long enough to get our food on the grill. Meanwhile, we were scorching our taste buds on the appetizer, sliced cucumbers presented with about 20 different salsas.
Soon we were elbow deep in a fabulous taco frenzy. My favorites were the potato taco (baked potato mixed with pinto beans, mushrooms, and roasted jalapeños, topped with a rich chipotle sauce on a fresh corn tortilla... St. Patrick would approve) and the taco dulce.
My novice photo skills don't do the taco dulce justice. It is a heavenly creation of caramelized pineapple topped with mango sauce, raspberry sauce, strawberry sauce, and finished off with chopped walnuts. I swear the chef didn't even have to stop slicing avocados to make this; it just magically appeared in front of me.
Nothing could really compete after that, so we hoisted ourselves off the barstools and lumbered back outside. We tipped the security guy who watched our car with a bottle of aspirin and were on our way back stateside. Aside from a lingering paranoia that I may have contracted Montezuma's Revenge, it was a perfect meal.
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