The day a Chihuahua starts telling us where to eat is the day we start eating tacos al Purina.
Here’s how to find some of the best tacos in town: Stop by a place that has the word taco in its name. A place such as Tacos y Salsas, a small, bustling taqueria on East Colfax Avenue that is constantly overflowing with folks who don’t need any stinkin’ dog to point the way to killer meats and freshly made salsas.
Tacos y Salsas is the quintessential hole-in-the-wall, with the major decor item being one 8-by-10 Diego Rivera print thumbtacked to the wall. There are a half-dozen tables haphazardly thrown around the room that get moved around a lot by families trying to squeeze in, a cashier’s counter and a salsa bar on wheels. And then there’s the kitchen, where somebody is responsible for turning raw meat into food of the gods. Folks who have to drink a margarita with their tacos will be disappointed at the lack of a liquor license.
But really, that’s not the point in a place like this. If you are Anglo and speak English you will be in the minority here, but all you need to do is point at the limited menu and the food will appear. They serve burritos and tortas, tostadas, eggs and gorditas, and those are good, especially the fat barbacoa burrito ($3) and the greasy gordita ($2) enclosed like a flying saucer around spice-packed, housemade chorizo.
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But the tacos are special. They cost $1.30 apiece, and they arrive folded in half in a paper-lined red basket, nothing but one thick corn tortilla generously topped with the meats of choice.
The top taco is the pollo, shredded chicken wet from its own juices, with dark, crispy bits and the kind of roasty chicken flavor that surprises with its depth. Second would have to be the carne asada, beef moist from its marinade, and then barbacoa, spicy shredded meat that’s also tender and juicy.
Really, though, it’s all good here. A papa taco brings semi-mashed potatoes, soft in the center and crunchy around the edges, and puerco is pork marinated in a lime-based concoction that takes the edge off the rich fatty pieces. Deshebrada (why do Denver’s Mexican eateries drop the h?) brings beef brisket braised with chiles before being shredded.
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Not that any of the meats need any help, but part of the beauty of the taco is its ability to hold a bunch of stuff in one convenient package. And so Tacos y Salsas offers a cutie little salsa bar, too heavy on mixtures that contain the fire-breathing seeds of chiles, but also offering fresh lime wedges, chopped cilantro, several tomatillo-based salsas and pico de gallo that needs more tomatoes. Inexplicably, there are too many tomatoes in the sides of guacamole ($1.50), but that’s easy to forgive since the portions are huge.
The same can be said of the food at Tacos Jalisco at Leetsdale and Forest, the second outpost of the popular original of the same name on West 38th Avenue. This Tacos Jalisco makes the same thick, medium-spicy green chile ($5.50 with beans and rice) as the first one, chockful of ham-like pieces of lightly smoked pork, and the same half-crispy, half-soft, open-faced chiles rellenos ($7.25 for two, smothered, with beans and rice).
It also makes the same tacos, larger than at Tacos y Salsas, with more meat and the taco accoutrements right there on the plate. The meats aren’t as to die for, but Tacos Jalisco still does an excellent job of marinating, roasting, grilling and shredding the fillings for their medium-sized corn tortillas, which come four to an order, garnished with lime wedges, guacamole, tomatoes, onions and chiles. A salsa bar is set up, too, and that’s where Tacos Jalisco has it all over Tacos y Salsas. Several of the salsas are good enough to eat with a spoon, especially a creamy cilantro brew and a well-balanced pico de gallo.
The taco meals are filling, each tortilla flat against the plate with the meats piled high. The best of the lot: tacos al carbon ($6.75), chile-rubbed tenderloin that’s been diced and pan-fried with onions and tomatoes. The poblano-packed tacos deshebrada ($6.50) have a fainter bite but just as much meaty goodness in the shredded beef, and the barbacoa tacos ($6.50) bring cheek meat rolled in minced chiles.
The atmosphere at Tacos Jalisco is that of a regular restaurant, one that still sports the pink and green walls of its two most recent predecessors in the space, first La Cascada and then Jerry’s Cafe. A large, well-stocked bar sits at one end, and the best seats in the house are the booths. Service can be slow if the place is full, but once an order goes in the food comes out fast and hot. And full of flavor.
Take that, you little dog.
