I've been telling you stories about my growing up in the back end of a Mexican restaurant. This week I'm diverting slightly from my theme. I'm still talking about Mexican food, but this time, I give you my personal history with tacos.
Street Vendor Tacos
My first memories of tacos were of street vendors in Tijuana. We rarely ate out and there were few Mexican restaurants in Southern California in the early Fifties. There certainly weren’t any Taco Times or Taco Bells with their American tacos.
When we visited Mexico, I was fascinated by the street vendors. They were usually older women, dressed in peasant-style blouses with red and green threads in the collar and sleeves, bright skirts and rebozos (shawls).
Their stands consisted of a table with a propane burner on it, a frying pan full of dirty looking oil, crockery bowls full of toppings, a big bowl with taco meat and a stack of handmade tortillas. The taco meat was ground beef with chilies, onions, potato and spices in it; it smelled wonderful.
To make the tacos the vendor folded the tortillas around some taco meat then sealed them shut with tooth picks. She fried the tortillas with meat in the dirty oil.
When it was good and crisp, she removed the taco and patted it down with a dirty-looking cloth dish towel to remove the excess grease. The toothpicks were removed and shredded lettuce, fresh farmer cheese, salsa and tomatoes were added. We never ate from one of the taco stands, but they looked and smelled wonderful. In the restaurants in Tijuana, when we ordered tacos, we got a similar dish. I had no doubt that it was made is the same fashion.
The few times we did eat in a Mexican restaurant in Costa Mesa or Santa Ana, the tacos were similar to what we saw in Tijuana. In most of these restaurants, there were women making tortillas by hand and cooking them on a hot grill where the customers could see them. The one difference between the tacos that we saw in Southern California and what we saw in Mexico was that in the US we could get tacos with picadillo, shredded beef, rather than the ground beef we saw in Mexico.
When we visited Mexico, I was fascinated by the street vendors. They were usually older women, dressed in peasant-style blouses with red and green threads in the collar and sleeves, bright skirts and rebozos (shawls).
Their stands consisted of a table with a propane burner on it, a frying pan full of dirty looking oil, crockery bowls full of toppings, a big bowl with taco meat and a stack of handmade tortillas. The taco meat was ground beef with chilies, onions, potato and spices in it; it smelled wonderful.
To make the tacos the vendor folded the tortillas around some taco meat then sealed them shut with tooth picks. She fried the tortillas with meat in the dirty oil.
When it was good and crisp, she removed the taco and patted it down with a dirty-looking cloth dish towel to remove the excess grease. The toothpicks were removed and shredded lettuce, fresh farmer cheese, salsa and tomatoes were added. We never ate from one of the taco stands, but they looked and smelled wonderful. In the restaurants in Tijuana, when we ordered tacos, we got a similar dish. I had no doubt that it was made is the same fashion.
The few times we did eat in a Mexican restaurant in Costa Mesa or Santa Ana, the tacos were similar to what we saw in Tijuana. In most of these restaurants, there were women making tortillas by hand and cooking them on a hot grill where the customers could see them. The one difference between the tacos that we saw in Southern California and what we saw in Mexico was that in the US we could get tacos with picadillo, shredded beef, rather than the ground beef we saw in Mexico.
American Tacos
Then modernization hit. As Papa would say, some smart Yankee figured out how to automate the process. Tortilla machines were developed that produced hundreds or thousands of tortillas per hour. The tortillas were all uniform in size, shape and taste. Shortly after the introduction of the tortilla machine, we started seeing hard-shelled tacos in restaurants.
An industrious restaurateur discovered that he could save labor dollars by inventing a mold that would hold six or eight tortillas at a time, and fry them into identical, crisp taco shells. The industry got a hold of his mold and all the restaurants began offering hard shell tacos like we know today. Then Taco Time and Taco Bell entered the market, offering Mexican fast food. They swept over the nation, introducing America to the American version of tacos.
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against American tacos. I have eaten, served and enjoyed my share in my lifetime, but what we see in most restaurants here is not what is called a taco in Mexico.
My introduction to real Mexican tacos came in Guanajuato, Mexico. The city of Guanajuato is the capital of the state of Guanajuato. My grandfather grew up there before he came to the United States and my mother wanted to visit her father’s home town. In 1981 Connie and I took Mama to Guanajuato, Guadalajara and Puerto Vallarta on the trip of a lifetime.
An industrious restaurateur discovered that he could save labor dollars by inventing a mold that would hold six or eight tortillas at a time, and fry them into identical, crisp taco shells. The industry got a hold of his mold and all the restaurants began offering hard shell tacos like we know today. Then Taco Time and Taco Bell entered the market, offering Mexican fast food. They swept over the nation, introducing America to the American version of tacos.
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against American tacos. I have eaten, served and enjoyed my share in my lifetime, but what we see in most restaurants here is not what is called a taco in Mexico.
My introduction to real Mexican tacos came in Guanajuato, Mexico. The city of Guanajuato is the capital of the state of Guanajuato. My grandfather grew up there before he came to the United States and my mother wanted to visit her father’s home town. In 1981 Connie and I took Mama to Guanajuato, Guadalajara and Puerto Vallarta on the trip of a lifetime.
Tacos al Pastor cooking on a trompa
Guanajuato is built in a canyon, high in the Sierra Madre Mountains of central Mexico. It is a long day’s drive south of Guadalajara. I had seen taco stands in Guadalajara, but did not have the nerve to order from street vendors. By the time we got to Guanajuato, my resolve broke down.
We got in after the restaurants closed for lunch and before they opened for dinner. We were starving. The bus that we rode to Guanajuato made a lunch stop in San Juan de los Lagos, but the bus terminal was so disgustingly dirty that we couldn’t bring ourselves to eat there. By the time we arrived in Guanajuato, we were starved.
After checking into our Sixteenth Century hotel we decided to walk about the town. As we passed the taco stands, with their smells of roasting meat, onions, garlic and chilies, I broke down. I couldn’t resist any longer.
The taco stands of Guanajuato sold tacos al pastor, camp-style tacos. They used a vertical-spit barbeque to cook the meat; much like is used to cook the meat for gyros in Greek cuisine. Onto the vertical spit, a layer of pork was added, then a layer of onions, then a layer of pork, etc. The spit was about two feet tall and the meat was about a foot and a half in diameter.
A fire burned behind the meat and the heat spread by bricks stacked in front of the burners, much like we use lava rocks in the bottom of our gas grills in this country, cooked the meat. The meat/onion rotated on the spit in front of the hot bricks and gave off an enticing aroma. As the outside layer of the meat cooked, the vendor took a long, sharp knife and sliced it off in thin sections, exposing the un-cooked meat underneath to the heat. As the day wore on, the stack of meat got thinner and thinner.
At the bottom of the spit, the meat and onions lay in their own juices and absorbed even more flavor. When a customer ordered tacos, the vendor scooped up the meat and onions into four-inch diameter corn tortillas, topped them with cilantro, salsa and fresh chopped onion, then wrapped six tacos together in brown butcher paper packets.
We got in after the restaurants closed for lunch and before they opened for dinner. We were starving. The bus that we rode to Guanajuato made a lunch stop in San Juan de los Lagos, but the bus terminal was so disgustingly dirty that we couldn’t bring ourselves to eat there. By the time we arrived in Guanajuato, we were starved.
After checking into our Sixteenth Century hotel we decided to walk about the town. As we passed the taco stands, with their smells of roasting meat, onions, garlic and chilies, I broke down. I couldn’t resist any longer.
The taco stands of Guanajuato sold tacos al pastor, camp-style tacos. They used a vertical-spit barbeque to cook the meat; much like is used to cook the meat for gyros in Greek cuisine. Onto the vertical spit, a layer of pork was added, then a layer of onions, then a layer of pork, etc. The spit was about two feet tall and the meat was about a foot and a half in diameter.
A fire burned behind the meat and the heat spread by bricks stacked in front of the burners, much like we use lava rocks in the bottom of our gas grills in this country, cooked the meat. The meat/onion rotated on the spit in front of the hot bricks and gave off an enticing aroma. As the outside layer of the meat cooked, the vendor took a long, sharp knife and sliced it off in thin sections, exposing the un-cooked meat underneath to the heat. As the day wore on, the stack of meat got thinner and thinner.
At the bottom of the spit, the meat and onions lay in their own juices and absorbed even more flavor. When a customer ordered tacos, the vendor scooped up the meat and onions into four-inch diameter corn tortillas, topped them with cilantro, salsa and fresh chopped onion, then wrapped six tacos together in brown butcher paper packets.
Tacos al Pastor
“Let’s order a package of tacos to hold us until dinner.” I suggested. Mama and Connie were starving too and had no objection.
We took our packet of tacos and sat down on a park bench. I had never tasted anything so wonderful in my life. The savory flavor of the meat, along with the freshness of the cilantro and the sweetness of the onions exploded in my mouth. We quickly polished off the package of six tacos.
“These are wonderful, let’s order six more.” We never made it to a restaurant for dinner. I ate a dozen of the little tacos on the park bench beneath the setting December sun.
From then on, where ever we traveled in Mexico, I sought out taco vendors to sample their wares. My favorite tacos are tacos al pastor, Connie’s favorite were tacos carbon, made with carne asada. Our local taqueria in Lynnwood sells wonderful tacos de carnitas. They also have tacos de lingua (beef tongue) and tacos de cabeza de cerdo (meat from the pig’s head), I haven’t tried these. These tacos are all made with the desired meat, then filled with chopped onion, cilantro and salsa. A far cry from American hard-shelled tacos.
In my humble opinion, the best tacos that I ever ate are at the Grand Central Market in downtown Los Angeles. The taqueria in the Grand Central Market is located right next to the stand where a giant tortilla machine produces thousands of hot, fresh tortillas per hour.
We took our packet of tacos and sat down on a park bench. I had never tasted anything so wonderful in my life. The savory flavor of the meat, along with the freshness of the cilantro and the sweetness of the onions exploded in my mouth. We quickly polished off the package of six tacos.
“These are wonderful, let’s order six more.” We never made it to a restaurant for dinner. I ate a dozen of the little tacos on the park bench beneath the setting December sun.
From then on, where ever we traveled in Mexico, I sought out taco vendors to sample their wares. My favorite tacos are tacos al pastor, Connie’s favorite were tacos carbon, made with carne asada. Our local taqueria in Lynnwood sells wonderful tacos de carnitas. They also have tacos de lingua (beef tongue) and tacos de cabeza de cerdo (meat from the pig’s head), I haven’t tried these. These tacos are all made with the desired meat, then filled with chopped onion, cilantro and salsa. A far cry from American hard-shelled tacos.
In my humble opinion, the best tacos that I ever ate are at the Grand Central Market in downtown Los Angeles. The taqueria in the Grand Central Market is located right next to the stand where a giant tortilla machine produces thousands of hot, fresh tortillas per hour.
Carne Asada Tacos
When I was growing up at El Sombrero, the best thing in the world was tortilla day. Usually once a week or so, Mama fired up our tortilla machine to make tortillas. We kept a bowl with melted butter and a brush sitting on top of the machine. As tortillas came off, we brushed butter on one, rolled it up and munched it down. It was the best snack imaginable.
Seeing and smelling the tortilla machine in the Grand Central Market brought back all my childhood memories. As the tortillas rolled off the machine, stacks of them were passed, hot and fresh, to the taqueria next door. The staff in the taqueria made tacos from the still warm tortillas.
The taqueria keeps the meat for their tacos on a steam line. They have carne asada, carnitas, pork for tacos al pastor, fish for fish tacos (I could never get used to that one) etc. As you order, they take two fresh tortillas, slap on the meat, add cilantro, onion and salsa and hand it over the counter for a very reasonable price. No normal person can eat more that two tacos. We usually order one, take the outside tortilla off and make a second taco out of it so that we can handle all the fillings without spilling all over our clothes.
On the way out of the Market there is a fruit smoothie stand run by an older Mexican woman. We always buy two tacos, fruit smoothies and sit at the tables just outside the entrance in the sun shine. We are just across from the Angel Flight Trolley that runs up Beacon Hill and get to do some serious people watching while we eat. After all, this is LA.
Seeing and smelling the tortilla machine in the Grand Central Market brought back all my childhood memories. As the tortillas rolled off the machine, stacks of them were passed, hot and fresh, to the taqueria next door. The staff in the taqueria made tacos from the still warm tortillas.
The taqueria keeps the meat for their tacos on a steam line. They have carne asada, carnitas, pork for tacos al pastor, fish for fish tacos (I could never get used to that one) etc. As you order, they take two fresh tortillas, slap on the meat, add cilantro, onion and salsa and hand it over the counter for a very reasonable price. No normal person can eat more that two tacos. We usually order one, take the outside tortilla off and make a second taco out of it so that we can handle all the fillings without spilling all over our clothes.
On the way out of the Market there is a fruit smoothie stand run by an older Mexican woman. We always buy two tacos, fruit smoothies and sit at the tables just outside the entrance in the sun shine. We are just across from the Angel Flight Trolley that runs up Beacon Hill and get to do some serious people watching while we eat. After all, this is LA.
Fish Tacos
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