George C.
Yelp
Here's me earning big karma points. Introducing The Trifecta: one al pastor taco, one lengua taco, one relleño taco. Lettuce. Tomatoes. (Hold the sour cream. Sour cream is a pollutant that has no place in, on, or near good Mexican food. Applying it is a form of vandalism and should be regarded as a punishable offense by civilized people. Unless you're in Southern California where different rules and canned black olive slices--oh the horror--apply.)
TB#3's are taco-sized tacos, with the requisite two tortillas per. The bottom / outer tortilla serves as a reinforcement and moisture barrier for the upper / inner tortIllas upon which the above fillings are heaped, but not overly heaped. Properly constructed, the tortillas should come to just above the halfway point of the filling. More filling will just fall unceremoniously into your tray and throw off the salty masa to filling ratio which, like a good martini, is maddeningly difficult to get right.
Al Pastor resides in the upper pantheon of pork, where it hangs out with hardwood-smoked BBQ ribs, braised ribs, Southern Ham, prosciutto, Spanish jamon, nitrate / nitrite-free bacon (that shit'll kill you), and Chinese red-braised pork, drinking bourbon and smoking pre-embargo Cuban cigars. Al Pastor is vertically spit-roasted pork, the euphoric marriage of Lebanese and Central Mexican spices. Properly cooked, it is flame-crisped bits and succulence. It's what shawarma and gyros aspire to be when they grow up.
Lengua is beef tongue. Legua has an almost meltingly-soft texture when it's cooked properly. TB#3 cooks lengua properly. "Ohmigod, tongue? Really? No way." Way. Shut up and order it and don't tell the reluctant among your party what it is. They'll thank you for it later and forever after revere you for your refined and nuanced palette.
Chile reelleño. What's the first word? Chile. It's not called a batterito. A chile relleño is supposed to be an homage to the chile pepper, cheese-stuffed and wrapped in a light, golden coat. The key to the chile relleño is the batter and the cooking. Most places blow it with batter so thick and dense it's like eating a kitchen sponge made of dough. Sponges being absorbent, the botched relleño retains about a quart of oil. This is why you feel like you blacked out and ate your sofa after a substandard relleño. TB#3 performs the entire orchestration with deftness and precision.
Every other visit, or if you stop by for "breakfast" at noon, rotate in a chorizo taco. Like the al pastor, lengua, and chile relleño, they do an exceptional job with their chorizo.
Pro tip: red salsa for the al pastor and lengua, green salsa for the relleño. Christmas (that's half red and half green) for the chorizo.
You may demonstrate your gratitude by judiciously passing this along to your family and very best friends. If you're feeling particularly thankful kindly request that the owners -- this is a family-run joint with mom and dad doing the cooking and the son ringing up orders--affix a discreet brass plaque that says "GeorgeNCopy" on the second table from the right-hand side of the entrance. What comes around goes around.
