 Tito's Tacos
First and foremost, I'd feel remiss without offering the chance to permanently sear the Tito's Tacos jingle into your brain:
It's the perfect tune for this place, which is both beloved and hated in about equal measure, with those who love it lining up night after night for the glorious grossness, and the haters reflexively puking whenever it is mentioned.
Part and parcel to the Tito's experience is the almost ceaselessly crazy crowd outside—lunch, dinner, or drunkie time, it's stacked up about twelve people deep and four lines wide. This inherently sets up the mental dilemma of wait time vs. food quality, but it also builds a special sort of anticipation that you don't get just anywhere. Usually, by the time you get to where there's only one person between you and the ordering window, it feels like you're about to meet the gah damn Queen.
I actually wasn't much of a fan the first time I tried the tacos here, which is probably a common occurrence. Tito's is its own thing, perhaps closest in spirit to the deep-fried, radiant-cheese splendor of Lupe's but with a shreddier beef that gives the taco a nice chewiness. The burritos, similarly, don't wow you at first but become extremely craveable over time, especially with their rather mystical jalapeño sauce, which might be the secret key to it all. It's the kind of place, like Pink's, that isn't necessarily "to die for" on its own merits, but if I ever happen to pass by and there isn't a line, I stomp on the brakes and go get me some, whether I'm hongry or not. So, "big line … pretty good," "no line … VERY good" is how things shake out here. The Tito's jingle explicitly suggests getting two tacos instead of just one, but the arduousness of obtaining the first one practically mandates the second, regardless of how they taste. It's like, if you're ever fortunate enough to meet Al Roker, goose both of his buttocks, because it might be your only chance to goose either. Review by Wimpempy Tarlisle, July 2016 |
