Goodbye Blood Sausage, Hello Tacos

I can't believe that the night has come. In six and a half hours, Laiola will close its doors after a 2 1/2 year tenure. That's the bitter part. The sweet part comes with the opening of Tacolicious in a couple weeks.

Of course we all have to believe in fate. It helps us get through decades like this one. And I owe a lot to Laiola because it's where I met Joe. I firmly believe that it is your right to unapologetically judge a man by his taste in food. (My former marriage had some major issues, but the red flag went up one night when I was presented with an all-steamed dinner.) With Joe, I knew before I'd even met him that he had good taste because he was the owner of Laiola and he'd hired Mark Denham as his chef.

Joe came up with the idea to invite Mark back to the Laiola kitchen for the last four nights of Laiola's existence. I dined there yesterday evening with Joe and our friends. We ordered the entire menu, most of was made up of Mark's Laiola signatures: the morcilla and chickpeas, the bold lamb meatballs wrapped in caul fat, the requeson cheese drizzled in olive oil, the lincoln log-shaped croquettas, tender slices of lamb with its own juice, a salad of thinly sliced Brussels sprouts with a nutty cheese. I couldn't eat any more by the time the skate with fried lemon and greens arrived, but there was a lot of moaning in reaction (moaning in a good way).

There was not one dish that didn't strike a perfect balance of soulful and simple. Everyone talks the California cuisine talk here in SF ("let the food speak for itself! let the ingredients shine!"), but few chefs can really pull it off. Mark has the gift of restraint as well as a true respect for the food he's cooking. He's like the perfect student of Chez Panisse.

And because food tends to trigger memories more vividly than anything, I looked at Joe and felt a little heart pang, recalling the night that Laiola brought us together. (In other words, do not deny the power of blood sausage.)

As for Mark, Joe and I wish him so much luck in his new venture as he looks for a space to open his own restaurant called Bishop. I promise you that it'll be one of the best restaurants in SF the minute it opens. Or maybe simply the best.

As for the fate headed our way in 2010? An omen came last night when on our way to dine at Laiola, we dropped my friends' beautiful baby off at her parents who are Korean. They'd just gotten back from Cabo, where Jina's father was so taken by the tacos they'd had there that he'd spent time in the kitchen at one of the Cabo restaurants just watching in admiration. (The Korean/Spanish language barrier didn't allow for much else.) He came back pumped, to use Kelly's word.

When we arrived, the Park family was eating dinner. And what had Jina's father made? Tacos.

I'm just sayin': Things are looking up.

Happy New Year everyone.

Never Judge a Restaurant By Its Cover

My parents, who live in Waltham, Massachusetts are totally open to trying new restaurants—except when it comes to trying an "ethnic" restaurant without typical "American" decor—what's often lovingly referred to as a hole-in-the-wall by more adventurous eaters.

In San Francisco we know these establishments well, and we take pride in being the one to find that restaurant that serves up delicious food, yet you would never have guessed it from the outside, or even from the inside for that matter.

My favorite restaurant in this category is Pastores on Mission Street at Cortland. I heard about Pastores from my buddies over at La Cocina. You could easily pass Pastores on the street and, although, with its tile floors and minimal decor, it would fit right in in Mexico, the interior (pictured below) doesn't exactly offer a lot of flavor. But trust me, it's worth the stop. Every time I visit Pastores, I pull up a seat at the counter and tell Irma, the owner, to give me a couple dishes that she feels like cooking up. I had my first tostada at Pastores made with melt-in-your-mouth lamb on a crispy tortilla and topped with queso fresco. Heavenly.

So, back to the parents and Waltham—a town that has its share of somewhat dubious dining options, one in particular that I've always thought might have great potential. It's called Taqueria Mexico and it sits a few blocks behind the main drag, which made it even more enticing to dare my parents to join me for lunch there.

My hopes were high, I was certain I had found the authentic Mexican restaurant option that my parents would continue to frequent, substituting their once a month visit to the Tex-Mex restaurant on the main street. I ordered three types of tacos: lengua, chorizo and carnitas, a carnitas torta and the pork tamales (pictured below).

I'm afraid the picture doesn't depict my lunch as well as I would have liked; the meat looked less than appetizing, especially their unique version of "chorizo." This didn't deter me one bit from digging in, keeping in mind my theory that looks can be deceiving. I was bummed to find out that my tacos tasted just like they looked. There was heat, but no depth of flavor. (And we're not going to even talk about the pink tomatoes and iceberg lettuce that would have Alice Waters screaming.)

Still, I'm glad I tried it. Because you know what? You just never know. I'm sure somewhere in Waltham, there's a gem in the snow. I'll find it on my next visit.

-Kelly

2010 The Learning Curve Continues...

It's been a big year at Tacolicious. I've learned so much.

Until I moved to San Francisco, my understanding of tacos was limited. Growing up, my mom would make them for the family at least once a week on “taco night." For these evenings, tacos translated to a hard shell, ground beef, Ol’ El Paso seasoning, iceberg lettuce, shredded yellow cheddar cheese and mealy tomatoes. (Maybe not authentic, but its own kind of delicious.)

When living in New York City, my understanding of “taco night” significantly changed. It became about late night drinking and burritos the size of my forearm. (Sorry, Mom … it’s true.)

I moved to San Francisco four years ago and was formally introduced to Mexican cuisine in my Latin American cuisine class at the CCA (California Culinary Academy.) Chef Patricio was my teacher: He was handsome, olive-skinned, white haired, white teeth—very George Clooney. But I digress. It was one of my favorite classes, and I couldn’t wait until the end of class to eat the feast we made. The flavors were bold, intense and spicy, and the meats were usually shredded and always juicy and tender. It was nothing like the burritos or tacos I had grown-up eating.

Although I’m a white gal from New England I quickly realized that Mexican cuisine makes for one of my comfort foods. Since starting with Tacolicious I've spent a lot more time in the Mission taking in the culture and the cuisine. While searching for agua fresca jars for our stand at theFerry Building, I stumbled into Casa Lucas Market on 24th St. between Alabama and Florida Street. The ceilings are hung with gigantic, colorful piñatas, and below, the produce is stacked high, beautifully presented and of great quality.

Today, I buy produce from Casa Lucas to make the salsas that I put on top of with my new favorite Mexican food item: huaraches from La Palma.These oblong shaped pockets of goodness are freakin’ awesome, especially when you can get them hot when the black beans are melting out from inside the dough. Yum.

I’m getting hungry. Unfortunately I am 3,000 miles away from the Mission, spending some time back east in Massachusetts with the fam. However, I am looking forward to checking out the local Mexican, (hole-in-the-wall,) restaurant--the one that my parents are too scared to enter because they don’t serve margaritas in gigantic glasses with cactus shaped stems. I'll report back.

Happy Holidays

Kelly

Taco Christmas

The kids made gingerbread cookies yesterday. Pictured, we have a very nice looking Rudolph (duh) done by Silas, a cute Christmas tree by Moss and a spicy taco, topped with red-hots, by Mia, who we can always count on for brand expansion.

The New Yorker's Lament (a.k.a. The Empire State of Mind)

I hear Jay-Z about New York. I lived there for a while back in 96 when I was going to cooking school. I definitely felt like I'd moved to the center of the world. Except for one mysterious phenomenon, which continues to this day:
 
In New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there's nothing you can't do (except find a good taqueria).

Sing it Alicia.

Nevertheless, I  used to find myself—desperate for a taqueria moment—at some psuedo Mexican place on First Street that plated their burritos, topped them with shredded orange cheddar cheese, and served them with a fork—a serious taqueria felony. It's amazing what homesick ex-pats will do to try to recreate their food experiences.

According to my taco-obsessed, East Village resident brother Travis, there still isn't good Mexican in Manhattan. Travis is the kind of guy who gets off the plane at SFO, gives me a quick pat hi and immediately starts directing me off 101 to the nearest taqueria for a taco fix. The same thing is required before he boards a plane to go back to New York. Which means, when he has an early flight, he's searched out taquerias before most people have finished their coffee (I now know that Cancun is open for breakfast). He has no problem stomaching a carne asada taco at 9:00 am. More than once, from the haze of my morning sleep, I've heard Travis back from a taqueria and crunching tortilla chips at the kitchen table.

So yesterday when I picked up Travis, we ended up at La Taqueria within the hour of his plane landing even though it was only 10:30 in the morning. Our parents met us there, and Joe, Mia and I indulged along with them in some carnitas tacos, cooked dorado (crispy). To be honest, I like the tortillas soft better, but I keep ordering the crispy ones because, well, everyone's doing it (note to self: follow your heart). Either way they're great tacos, some of my favorite, but my brother pointed out that La Taqueria's tacos are really just a beast of their own. Neither antojito-style nor even the slightly larger size you see at most taquerias around here, La Taqueria has mastered the super taco—the taco that's almost a burrito in size and scope. That place is a true phenomenon. I looked around and saw gringo foursome in their 60s, a young Asian couple, and a Latino family with kids. It appeals to everyone.

Travis will be back here next Saturday and we'll be topping off his West Coast trip with another taqueria. Unfortunately, he's going to miss our T-Lish Tuesday coming right up. Of course, my hope is that if Tacolicious's transition from market stand to brick-and-mortar at the Laiola space goes as well as we hope, maybe Tacolicious can make it out to New York. It deserves better.

The Kids' Happy Hour: Under 10? Eat Free at T-Lish Tuesday

As you can see from Sara’s last blog post, it turns out kids love Tacolicious just as much as adults. I’m always surprised at how preschool-age children are 1000 times more intimidating to me than any first date! At 10:30 AM, on the dot, there they were, a pack of little people hand-in-hand, looking up at me with their big eyes and chubby cheeks. They were waiting for something big to happen—for me to entertain them:

Me: Hi guys!
Little People: Hiiiii!!!
Me: So, who likes tacos?
Little People: Me, mee, me , me , me. And of course that one random kid, “Not me!"
'Oh no! A naysayer,' I think to myself, “Ok. Relax, just keep going.”
Me: Who likes piñatas?
Little People: Me, meee, me, me, me, me!

The vote was unanimous! The kids couldn’t wait to get their little hands on a stick so they could whack the crap out of the beautiful pink donkey hanging by a string. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and they worked up an appetite for A LOT of tacos (even our little naysayer!)

So, in honor of the youth of America, tonight’s T-Lish Tuesday is for the kids. We’re bringing back the piñata, filling it with treats and, as an incentive to bring in the heavy hitters, all kids under 10 eat for free until 6:30 pm! Now that’s a happy hour for you.

Kid’s Menu

All served with rice and beans

Quesadillas (cheese or chicken and cheese)

or

House-made organic chicken fingers

or

Choice of a taco

Daily agua fresca

Ice cream sundae with caramel sauce

Even on normal days, our kids’ menu will only be $7. Sounds good, right? So good, we’d be happy to eat it for dinner ourselves. Just know that we will be checking IDs. So don’t try to pass yourself off as 9 ¾ years old. We know who you are.

xo, Kelly

Tacolicious: Better Than a Trip to the Zoo

Room to Grow, Moss's preschool, took a field trip to Tacolicious on Thursday and I went as a chaperone. We boarded the J-Church around 9:30 and an hour later, about eight parents and a bevy of 22 three and four year olds were chest-high at the table, looking up at Kelly.

Preschoolers get preferential treatment: We went for dessert before lunch and let the kids take a swing at a pinata, always a dangerous sport that involves a few near-whacks in the head as well. When the pink horse finally took a real, one-handed beating from one of the (clearly experienced) preschool teachers, I got to shake all the goodies out, including whistles, yo-yo's and Nerds, which as you'll see below, make a taco filling that we hadn't considered. Sort of like Ferran Adria and his pop-rocks. It takes a kid to have culinary vision.

Kelly gets the troops warmed up.

Moss, heir of Tacolicious, demanding what will be (part) his one day.

A very tough swing. Good arm.

Nothing like some Nerds in your bean taco.

Moss has a shot-and-a-beer chicken taco. One way to drink before you're 21.