Yay anniversary celebrations! We had some wonderful pre-anniversary celebrations and had an actual anniversary celebration too! I woke up the next morning HUNGOVER… oh man… Like it wasn’t right, guys. I need something to clear this out of my face. I wrote a post about Tacos La Bala, which was a damn good bowl of menudo! And, just like the old story says, the menudo cleared out my head pretty quickly. That wasn’t a real hangover but a heat headache. This one is proper. It’s gonna need a really good bowl, and I’m gonna need it quick. We mounted up and headed just up the road to a little place called Taqueria Rancho El Jalisco, the closest place that sells my particular cure. I’ve never been, but the parking lot is usually full.

Just Give Me The Damn Soup

We pull up to a blurry looking building. I’m sure the place isn’t phasing in and out of spacetime. I’m sure it’s just my headache, but it’s worth mentioning. The interior is equally blurry. Vaulted ceilings are coving the kinda dank, kinda dark dining room. It’s very poorly lit and reminds me of a crappy ‘80’s country bar that could be lively in the evenings, but it ’s, and the whole thing looks tired.

We’re greeted by an apathetic waitress who is kind to me but immediately takes a disliking to Wife when she comes up and takes my side. I’m far too groggy to care and, if you knew Wife, you’d know she doesn’t need defending by anyone. (I love her!) We make it to our booth, and I notice the dusty, CD-fed jukebox in the corner while we ask for some water. Country! I poke over the menu for a moment, quickly decide on some tacos and a bowl of menudo, and put my head on the table for a moment.

When the waitress returns, she asks, in Spanish, if we’re ready to order. Her disdain for Wife is solidified when Wife, having understood her perfectly, answers. It’s really funny! She orders Migas, eggs cooked with pieces of fried corn tortilla, and I order a bowl of menudo, spicy soup made from beef honeycomb tripe. I also order three tacos: Pastor, seasoned pork; Barbacoa, braised beef cheek; and chorizo, spicy Mexican sausage.

Fix Me, Soup. Fix Me!

We chat a bit, and I notice the water is helping me start to feel a bit better when our food arrives. My menudo shows up first followed several minutes later by Wife’s migas, served with beans and fried potatoes, and my tacos several minutes after that. The menudo is OK at best. It’s not hot but still hearty enough. It’s missing some seasonings, so I doctor it up with a few shakes of salt and some of the usual accompaniment, chopped cilantro, chopped onion, fresh lime, and chopped jalapeño. Once the broth was acceptable, I bite into the tripe and find it overcooked and almost mushy. That doesn’t stop me from gobbling it down, mind you. This hangover has to go!

The tacos are also OK. They’re Taqueria style, so they are relatively small and packed full of meat. The barbacoa is tasty and fatty like I like it. The chorizo is also of decent quality, but not made in-house. I’m ok with that, so long as you purchase a high-quality product. Have some pride! There is not much pride had here, unfortunately. The pastor, however, is pretty good. The meat isn’t seared like I prefer, but is seasoned well

Wife’s migas are also OK; a typical offering, I’d say. The eggs are cooked well enough but not heavily seasoned. The tortilla strips are still crisp, which is a plus. The potatoes are perfectly cooked but completely unseasoned. The beans, however, are damn good! I don’t know who made them, but they did well! They’re hearty and dense with the taste of garlic and pork fat. Just wonderful.

Not Great, Guys

We finish up our meal, and I’m starting to feel human again, despite the poorly executed menudo. Maybe it’s the tripe that helps, not the preparation? We pack up and head off. Wife passes by the waitress with pride and dignity while that salty woman makes sure to give her one last sideways glance. I not overly happy about my experience, but I’m delighted that the building is back in focus. As for the chef, I think we all know what’s up. On a scale from tip-the-hat (low) to shank-the-chef (high) this guy is in the running for a long, unscathed life. It seems Chef at Taqueria Rancho El Jalisco was serving something familiar for people who work or live in the immediate area. No sense in extending past what’s required if it’s paying the bills, I guess. A handshake and a well-wish, sir. Keep doing what makes you happy.

Chef Shanker

Keeping the world in balance.
Have you ever eaten something so delicious it made you angry?