It’s a pre-equinox evening, and darkness descends with little warning. My photo game is ghastly in this kind of light, but take my word for it: Objects on this camera are more delicious than they appear.
Start with the Guacamole. It’s a sure thing, and as obvious and mundane as it sounds, this one is exceptional enough to drive avocado haters to addiction. Something about the superbalance in this bowl, mix of onion for acid, Fresno chilies for heat, and queso fresco for cream.
Wash it down with a La Fruta de Dragon, a light and bright agua fresca, which only improves when it’s spiked.
Continue with the Aguachiles if you're not done with the apps. The snapper is super-tender with a kiss of citrus.
Sides are important, unless you just want meat-and-carb tacos. Pork belly makes savory Frijoles.
Cream and cheese make the Esquites, a char-grilled delight.
The tacos are where I get confused. The Al Pastor is surprisingly bland, with the spice-rub contributing not much more than color and salt. The pork pieces are dry, and a piece of pineapple the size of a lego seems to be solely for decoration.
The Carne Asada is one I can believe in. The steak has a heavy-hitting char, and the beefy savor is elevated by the flames. The house-made flour tortillas can stand alone - the texture and thickness is spot-on.
My photos are as blurry as my feelings for Salazar. They were good and were more often very good, but most of what I admired was not a taco. For a place known for the tacos, I would have expected a better al pastor.
No comments:
Post a Comment