The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

A Mexico City taquería, in pictures

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The first time I saw Taquería Jalisco, it was right after we moved to Cuauhtémoc, and Crayton and I were walking down Rio Lerma at night, checking out our new environs. (Or “rumbos,” as Mexicans say.)

Taquería Jalisco looked charming: it was a tiny fonda-slash-puesto, half indoors, half out, situated next to a parking garage. A few plastic tables and chairs had been set up near the driveway. Four orange stools, accented with chrome, stood in front of a small counter area. A big bunch of greens sprouted from a tin can.

Steam wafted about about the taqueros heads as they moved about, chopping and scooping and slicing. I was across the street, but I could almost smell that greasy meat smell. I wanted that greasy meat smell.

Taquería Jalisco offers several types of tacos, but my favorite is their suadero, a tender, fatty cut that comes from the area underneath the cow’s skin. (The definition from Ricardo Muñoz Zurita’s Mexican gastronomic dictionary.) When suadero’s cooked, it’s greasy, crisp, meaty. Topped with a spritz of lime juice and a spoonful of red salsa, it’s very hard to eat just two, which is my usual limit with street tacos. Last time I visited Taquería Jalisco, I ate four.

Really, it’s not just about the taste for me, but the way taco-making works in Mexico. The precision of it, the efficiency. The taquero tosses a handful of meat onto the comal, and watches the fat bubble and sizzle. He palms a few barely silver-dollar-sized corn tortillas, scoops up the meat, and tosses it, meat-side up, onto a plastic plate that’s lined with a square of paper. He asks: “Con todo?” and that’s a shortened code for “Do you want cilantro and onions?” The whole transaction — the making of the taco itself, whether you’ve ordered one or four — is done in under 30 seconds. It’s like this everywhere.

My pictorial tribute is below. Oh, and here’s the info on the place, should you ever be in the ‘hood:

Taquería Jalisco
On Rio Lerma, between Rio Sena and Rio Tigris
Col. Cuauhtémoc
They’re open 10 a.m. to 2 a.m. Monday through Saturday.

The makings for salsa roja, cooking in a big olla

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Comments

    • Hi Joan: I actually didn’t ask them what surtida is, but normally, if you order a “surtida” taco from a carnitas stand, it’s a mix of chewy fried pieces of pork fat (mmmm…) and shredded pork. I’m guessing it’s a similar thing here — a mix of pure fat with meat. Lots of people don’t like it, but I find the textural mix really interesting.

  5. Campechanos are a mix of chorizo and shredded beef. It’s quite good. Even though I’m in Baltimore, I feel lucky because a couple from the DF has a shop here that serves tacos campechanos – they are delicious!

  7. Onocoffee–thanks for the explanation of campechanos. I have made a mental note for the next time I am at a taqueria.

    The mix of chorizo and shredded beef is interesting to me because it connects with a big seller at almost all Italian beef stands in Chicago: the “combination” which is a sandwich of Italian sausage and Italian beef. This has always struck me as a heart attack so I refused to try it but put it on a taqueria menu and I’m craving it!

  10. Hi Lesley, Very nice slice of Mexican life in words and pictures! … Dumb question from someone who never took Spanish: How do you pronounce your city? Also, which apartment did you end up taking? The one you questioned in this blog? … I’ve been dieting and have been missing my beloved Mexican food, so I’m tasting vicariously through your posts. 🙂 Thanks!

    • Hi Kristine: I just realized I never responded to your comment! I apologize. Do you mean how do you pronounce the name of Mexico City? In Spanish you’d say “La Ciudad de Mexico” (ciudad = see-you-DODD; Mexico = MEH-hee-co). Does that help?

      Also, we took the apartment in Roma — the one where the owners didn’t make any comments about Koreans. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the blog. It’s great to hear from you!

      • No, you said you and Crayton moved to “Cuauhtémoc.” I thought that was the city you’re living in, and I have no idea how to say that. Ciudad I can handle. 🙂 Anyway, I hope you enjoy your new apartment!

    • Oh, okay. Cuauhtémoc is pronounced coo-ow-TEH-moke. You just of rush the first two syllables together. It’s actually the name of our old neighborhood, and the name of our “delegation,” which is the collection of neighborhoods in our area. Hope that helps. 🙂