Everything is a taco.
In the evening the modified bicycle carts travel down the thin streets. The locals discard the locks and push up the metal curtains. Simple plastic chairs with beer names engraved on the back are taken off the tables and leaves of deep-red hibiscus flowers are thrown into enormous jugs of water. Wicho and Chuy and Lalo all pull up to their respective corners in their stranger danger vans painted to attract eaters.
The sun drops behind the volcano puffing out smoke and the city lights come on to reveal the famous tacos.
Tacos de asada call attention to pedestrians as the grills let out a steady smoke.
Tacos al pastor are thrust onto plates by a long sharp knife that easily slices through the striped red meat hanging and spinning on a sculpture´s pole.
Tacos de barbacoa are enjoyed as another of my neighbor´s sheep disappears.
Tacos de birria with soup from the left over fats.
Tacos arabés with a non-traditional flour tortilla and white garlicky salsa.
As the night lingers, the tacos continue. Corn and meat and salsas fill plates all around.
But when the sun sneaks out again, presenting itself from behind the mountain Malinche, the lover of Cortés, meatless tacos come to the scene.
For the early morning crowd, the bankers and the teachers, a basket can be found with a wealth of gifts inside. On every corner the tacos de canasta, tortillas filled with potatoes, beans or chicharrón and fried. They can be served to go in a plastic bag with a spicy green salsa and Mexico´s favorite drink: Coca-Cola.
There is no end to the tacos. Offered on every corner, in every restaurant, every day. But also, in every home.
I slice into the tender pork-roast that has been steaming in my crock-pot with carrots and potatoes for eight hours. A scrumptious bread pulled out to accompany. My husband comments on great flavor and tenderness, ¨But this would be really good with some tortillas and some kind of tomato salsa.¨
A delicious meatloaf with mashed potatoes lines the plates and my mother-in-law asks for the tortillas and salsa and sends her husband off to purchase some.
Chicken filets and rice are shoved into corn tortilla shells. Baked fish is removed from bone to the tortilla.
Everything is a taco.
Somy husband´s craving for tacos for dinner comes at no surprise. But just what can he mean?
