Had lunch there today. What a glorious lunch it was!
Cachette (cheeks – mentioned and endorsed above by others), lengua (tongue), papada (jowl), and sesadilla (brain). I was clearly on a head-trip, and I should off rounded off my journey (I know, I know, one of those should be a “have” not an “off”, but which? Where’s my brain?) with oreja (ear), and trompa (snout), but I went for the mixed-meat surtida. Next time, as I contemplate the sesadilla, I’ll try to think more about complementary tastes and textures.
Let me start by agreeing with @DaveCook and @Ziggy that these are great tacos, probably the best I’ve had in NY, and comparable in many ways to top-notch tacos in California, certainly, and possibly stands in Mexico. (Hard to make such comparisons, though, across years, and across states of mind.) The meat is tender, nicely flavored, and there’s no fear of fat. I got there before they opened (at noon), but they kindly let me in out of the cold and let me study their parts-of-the-pig diagram on the wall, while they set out trays of the various parts they were to serve:


I liked the cheek, but the jowl and tongue were also meltingly tender and unctuous (in a pleasing way). To be honest, after I made one round – a bite from each – it was hard to tell which, exactly, was which – without some serious effort. It was, after that, a circle of delights, but somewhat similar delights. If the NYT is to be believed, the meats are cooked together. This may account for the similarity in their tastes. My memory might be playing tricks on me, of course, but I don’t remember this particular feeling in either California or Mexico.
The surtida was a bit disappointing in that it, too, melded into this delicious, fatty, but not-always-distinguishable taste. I was led to believe there’d also be chewy bits and crunchy bits, but if they were there my fine, fine teeth pulverized them before I noticed.
The brains of the operation, the sesadilla, were a bit more disappointing. The tortilla shell in which they come is toothpicked (I know because the first one stabbed me in the cachette as I bit into it) and deepfried. That fried crunch overwhelms the delicate organ within, all two tablespoons of it.
But, minor quibblings aside (what is HO’s fee for a name change from dabbler to quibbler?), this is a significant food operation. Those of you who like tacos, or like to say you like tacos because you think it makes you sound hip/cool/groovy, should set off there. Forget Los Tacos for a bit, skip past the memories of that semi-secret taco joint at the back of Tehuitzingo on 10th, take one lunch off from the excellent taco cart on 6th near MoMA (@BKeats, lookin’ at you), and taco-lovers all, head thee there.
To add to to their other glories, the meat was of excellent quality – their chopper-in-chief not only expertly chopped-to-order bits of the whole meats (in the trays shown above) for each taco, he also expertly discarded gristle, etc. , all in lovely, fluid motions – and the shelf of sides – salsas and such – were all vibrantly fresh and bursting with flavor.
For what it does, and says it wants to do, this is an exceptional joint.