By Reesa Turner
When I heard that a perfect storm of 3 of my absolute favorite things (BEER, TACOS, FREE) would be found down at Memorial Park this weekend, wild chivitos couldn’t keep me away.
Earlier this year I was gifted a book from a fellow foodie I know only through the interwebs….we had been having a fun, if somewhat terse, online forum conversation about Neapolitan pizza rules and regulations…Yeah, they actually exist. Many pizzaioli fork over the molto grande impasto for that decree of authenticity. There’s a veritable mordida to be paid just to claim you’ve got sanctioned Pizza Napoletana coming out of your autentico hand-crafted Italian wood-fired oven. What a bunch of hooey.
I decided it was high time for somebody to regulate how tacos are made…for the money, ya know? I swiftly surmised that authority should be me…why not? I could use those licensing fees from taco trucks, corner stands, and restaurants alike….paying me to earn the right to claim “Cierto, Tenemos Tlachos Auténticos Aqui!” After derailing a thread about pizza, and a few comments back and forth about what a taco actually is….(by my short investigation this is the definitive answer: Tlacho XolitzcuintIi Centeotl Yacatecuhtli) I was asked for my address so that a certain book could be mailed to me.
A very interesting read, indeed. Ask that Mexican named Gustavo Arellano about Latinos impact on American cuisine, and he delivers without his usual lengua en la mejilla postura. There was more of an lengua in the tortilla attitude. I read the book TACO USA in 2 days…it’s fascinating.
So, on to Saturday… I abandoned the reeking EPCC auditorium filled with El Paso’s hoi polloi and all my fellow tree-huggers, ditched the stench of the egg I layed there, to cruise towards Jim Tolbert’s beautiful neighborhood. I really miss living in that lush and manicured historic district. Upon entering the park I was met with a serpentine wall of waiting bodies, almost causing me to just keep on driving. Fortunately, my date had arrived on his Harley just at the right moment, and we both parked our vehicles to join the lengthy row of people.
Upon entering I was treated to an ice cold can of Power & Light Pale Ale from Independence Brewing out of Austin, Texas. I rambled about a bit trying to figure out which taco line to stand in and snapping photos of smiling, stressed, and anxious people. Besides my earlier breakfast of brownies and coffee, this beer was now my lunch. The wait for 2 tiny tacos was pleasant enough, with other talkative El Pasoans chatting about food, our city, what a typically beautiful day it was, just enjoying the ethereal vibe.
Mando Rayo was an hombre possessed, shaking hands, greeting old friends, signing book after book, until there were none. I had to tell him he was a marketing genius, which was welcomed with a huge grin and a knowing slow motion bobble-head nod. The ska stylings of Fixed Idea were the perfect partner to Mando’s groove. The TACOS of TEXAS was a hit in El Chuco, with over 700 hungry attendees.
When I saw those TACO snapbacks on the merch table it felt I never wanted anything more in my life than to own one. I mentioned to Mando that I had already read a “taco book” this year, but that cap is going home with me. Adelante! 20 bucks and my Never Summer cap was replaced by the coolest topper in taco nation. I groused with him some about cilantro trends, that infernal bane of my palate, which was represented in abundance, but thankfully not cooked into all of the meats today.
I went to grab another brewski and felt suave and slightly buzzed as I got into another taco line. I almost stayed away from Ruli’s stand since his apple slaw and avocado sauce are both cilantro infused. Did I by any chance mention I am one of the minority for whom cilantro sucks? Just like my feelings of utter and complete disgust for orange-man Trump, I ain’t ever gonna acquire a taste for this green rubbish. Something abuot genetic mumbo jumbo….but that’s my reality.
I’ll thank Quetzalcoatl for L&J’s red sauce, some of Rulis’ serranos toreados, especially on his teriyaki pork belly, and a slice of lime to impart some piquant, fiery flavor. For once, not having to endure picking and flicking of infernal green leaves and stems of that illustrious, trendy and much-reviled soapy green muddle, I scarfed these delicacies down in mere seconds. An explosion of sabor bien raro hit me like a metate, straight between the eyes and I wanted to cry, because Ruli’s tacos had run out.
Three days later I’m still dreaming and drooling over the thought of teriyaki pork belly. I’ve had more compliments on my TACO headwear than I can shake a chorizo at. Now I’m wondering if Rulis’ recipe is in that book I failed to buy.
From the Huffington Post:
When people say they hate cilantro, they often attribute this food feeling to a soapy aftertaste. Thanks to a new video from SciShow, we finally know why cilantro tastes like soap for some 4-14 percent of the population.
“How cilantro tastes to you has a lot to do with your genes,” says SciShow’s Hank Green. He explains that after conducting a few separate studies, scientists were able to pin down most cilantro haters as people with a shared group of olfactory-receptor genes, called OR6A2, that pick up on the smell of aldehyde chemicals. Aldehyde chemicals are found in both cilantro and soap. Uh, yummy?
If you are one of those anti-cilantro folks, at least you know that it’s not really your fault and you can blame your parents. To avoid that soapy taste in your dishes, we suggest swapping parsley for cilantro.