Tuesday, April 15, 2008
A city is like a vacuum cleaner attached to your wallet. If they could figure out how to charge you for breathing the air of the streets, the city planners would initiate oxygen maids making sure you had your ticket to breathe. no ticket. no air. no exceptions...Having said this, eating in an urban area can be easier on the bank book than say, putting gas in your car. This holds especially true in small, ethnic eateries. We found this little joint nestled next to the Triple Base Gallery in the Mission district. The music and smells wafting out the door hooked us like little puppies. It was then we saw the $1.50 tacos sign and we fell apart completely. This guy had a wheel shaped grill that was sectioned off for the various meats( pork, beef, chorizo) and the hub in the middle was a griddle for tortillas. Our man worked fast and before we could say," gracias, amigo," we had a paper plate filled with dripping street food... and sliced radishes to boot, for those of ya in the know. Bottled coca cola is a necessary companion in these scenarios. Places like these always feel a bit tattered and comfortable and jumping with happy eaters stuffing their faces and talking while chewing.Guilty as charged. Kendra even folded her plated in half and guided the left over salsa directly down her throat. I cannot think of a higher compliment.
Posted by BoMo at 2:09 PM