Suzanne R.
Google
I used to love, love, love Taco Dive Bar, and was always happy to take people there or suggest it as a meeting place. The food was delish, the presentation was great, the whole vibe was awesome. Now it feels infinitely less like a cool spot/“5th borough” than a somewhat upscale and absurdly expensive Taco Bell that serves margaritas, for which you will pay out the nose and not get salt on the rim of the glorified water glass they’re served in unless you specifically ask for it. Gone is the giant jug of “Spicy Mamas” behind the bar and the spicy mama who was so proud to mix one up for you. And if you order some classic quesadillas, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, you will get said quesadillas perfunctorily slapped on a plain white plate, with a steel thimble of sour cream, and absolutely nothing else—no garnish, no thimble of salsa, not even an offer of a jarred hot sauce. Basically an utterly boring grilled cheese, made (I’m guessing) with industrial pre-shredded cheese, if they don’t actually come pre-assembled out of the freezer…no cotija or crema. No one is cooking behind the line next to the bar that used to be the source of yummy smells and the vitality of hot-off-the-grill creations. I don’t even know where the sad quesadillas came from.
Our bartender, a young woman studying for her master’s in psych with the goal of working at Ryker’s, was charming and attentive. The vibeless, starched-white-shirt-and-black-shoes boss-like man behind the bar was efficient and utterly lacking in charm, on the other hand. $46 for crappy quesadillas and 2 “classic” margaritas. I keep saying I won’t return, as each time I’ve visited Taco Dive Bar since the pandemic, it’s been worse. But this time I’m really done.