Dos Toros Taqueria

 Dos Toros Taqueria is basically the local version of Chipotle, and everybody likes Chipotle. So, if you're one of the 3 or 4 Manhattanites who don't want to support a national chain, this place is for you. They also have a location in Williamsburg, but I can't imagine people who live in Williamsburg read this blog since the half-dozen regular readers have likely made it too trendy for their hipster ways. Besides, the number of young and hip people with beards (not in a mountain man sort of way) that populate this hole-in-the-wall suggest it is already a known spot for those of a certain cultural bent. 

Anyway, this place doesn't feel anything like a Chipotle clone, and there are subtle distinctions in craftsmanship and quality that make a huge difference and give Dos Toros a definitive edge. So I take back what I said, it's not a Chipotle clone at all. They claim to bring Bay Area style Mexican to New York. Here's my take on it:

Note the delicate tortillas and delicious toppings

The Taco: (5/5) The tacos themselves are delicious. The meats are grilled and tender and juicy and in all other ways delightful. It's not just the quality of the meat that stands out, this is a whole package type of place. The balance of toppings to tortilla is carefully done and all the tortillas are freshly made daily. Attention to detail here is key, and they get it done right. For instance, they use a monterey jack cheese and briefly melt it onto the tortilla before before adding other toppings, which perfectly binds the whole taco together and ensures an even distribution of cheesiness throughout. 

Pre-melted cheesy goodness

Accoutrement:(4/5) They offer up two different salsas, both made in house, and both quite delicious. There's a standard red (spicy) and green (less so) variety, and they are actually spicy for realz, but in a delicious and flavorful way. Also, they offer guacamole as an extra on anything, and it's only a $1 charge. This was always an annoying sticking point with me and Chipotle where the addition of the green goodness will put you a solid $2.50 back. Guacamole shouldn't cost me the price of another taco.

This is what you get for the price of a burrito

Value: (1/5) Gird your loins for a short rant. $4 a taco is too damn much.  And they're fairly small. The standard taco vs. burrito pricing model has simply been ignored. For the price of a burrito, one should get the equivalent amount of food so that the price per meal (PPM for short) is about the same. All other items on their streamlined menu follow the same PPM model, but only two tacos is the same price as a burrito, and two is only half of a meal. The combination of smallness and delicious make it so that I could eat these tacos for days and never want to stop. But then my wallet would empty and I'd only have hunger and tears to fill it. Make them $2.00-$2.50 a piece and throw in some chips and we'll have an appropriate PPM that matches everything else.

They certainly don't hide what makes them special. Makes my job easier tough.

Other: (4/5) True to their Bay Area roots, Dos Toros is big on the sustainability bandwagon. I feel the same about being green as I do about Dave Matthews Band, I love the thing itself but can't stand the fans. That being said, they do a great job of attending to little sustainable details, down to their receipt tape, which is BPA free (yes, this is a thing). Their chicken and beans are locally sourced and organic, and even the tables and chairs are made from reclaimed wood. Overall, it lends a feeling of care and attention that goes beyond the decor. 

Overall: (4/5) The reality is the Bay Area isn't known for its tacos, you go to LA for that. The Bay is all about burritos, and for burritos I'll be a regular here. The Burritos are delicious and have an appropriate PPM, but the truth is I'm a taco guy, and when I go into a place that has taqueria in the title, that's what I want to get. I walk by one of their locations all the time, and the memory of those sweet flavors entice me to go in, but then I remember the price, and I can't bring myself to shell out the cash. If, however, you are looking for tasty eats you can feel good about, and don't mind spending a pretty penny on them, this is the place for you. Especially if you have a beard.

Pink's Hot Dogs

Pink's claims to be the most famous hot dog stand in the world. They may be right. Seated in the center of Los Angeles and established in 1939, it's not hard to imagine the city developed around this most epic of eateries. Its reputation certainly precedes it. The line was as extensive as the menu, with a well planned airport-security style queue, and at the awkward 3pm between meal hour at that.

Besides its obvious popularity as a heart-attack haven and tourist attraction, the next most visible feature is the menu, which is huge and terribly confusing. They apparently have 3 - 6 different kinds of tube meat (all of which are intimidating to see) in addition to dozens of toppings that come in an overwhelming number of combinations. Here's what we tried:

Notice it can't all fit in the picture.

The Dog: (5/5) If you have self-esteem issues or hang-ups about your masculinity, this isn't the hot dog for you. Some are so long I had a hard time fitting the entire thing into the frame for a photo. And they are delicious. Thick, dense, meaty, and with the needed classic snap. They have sausages and all-beef dogs, and mysterious mixes, some with spices, others with jalapeños actually embedded into the dog itself. All are delicious (except the turkey ones, which are only ok, but it's turkey and shouldn't have been a hot dog in the first place).

So Much Topping. So. Much.

Accoutrement: (5/5) One does not simply walk into Pink's and not order toppings. Especially chili. Good lord the chili is delicious. There isn't enough room to go over all the different toppings available, but you can see they certainly don't skimp on them.

Not exactly proper etiquette. Don't judge.

Value: (5/5) I won't lie, the prices at Pink's made me a skeptic. $7 dollars for a hot dog? This seemed a bit much for a souped up food cart. I over-zealously ordered two, which was a mistake. The regular 9" 'stretch' dog (in the middle above) was by itself a meal. I tried to dig into the larger 12" monstrosity, but couldn't even figure out how to pick the thing up. After taking a not so delicate bite, I realized this was a fork and knife job. Even then, I only made it half way through the dog before I had to call it quits. That's three meals out of two hot dogs, and at the end of each one I was pretty sure my arteries couldn't take another bite. Now that's value.

Jalapeños inside the dog. How is it done? How?!

Other: (4/5) They've got veggie and turkey options, outdoor seating, and their fries are unbelievable. I even saw one of the managers warn customers that a cop was coming down the street handing out parking tickets incase anyone needed to move their car. If that isn't service, I don't know what is. 

I was in the middle of a heart-attack during this photo.

Overall: (5/5) Yes the line is long and the place is super-hyped, but sometimes this is justified. Tourists to LA should certainly take the time to visit, and locals already know this is a solid place for a meal. Don't kid yourself about stopping in for a light snack, and prepare yourself spiritually for what will surely be a physical and moral assault on your sense of delicate propriety. Don't let that stop you though, everyone needs the occasional slap in the face of their soul to remind them of what real luxuries look like.

¿Por Que No? (Portland, Oregon)

Their website has a "mythology" page, on which the owner, Bryan Steelman, praises the "honest smiles of the people" of Mexico. These pale, taco-induced smiles around me, then, must be the other sort. I must misunderstand the kitchen staff on their break joking about Portlandia in Spanish--how could their latin tongues know irony?

This may seem beside the point, but we are concerned with matters of the tongue. If, like the owner, we are inclined to trust honesty, how can we trust the artfully distressed brick walls, where a profusion of Guadalupes watch over us?

Personally, I think honest food is a nonthing, a dopey Jamie Oliverism. Indeed, this is precisely why I distrust this food, which sports dual pretensions of being authentically Mexican and locally sourced. Each meat is preceded with--a what? Place? Company? Brand? Farm? It hardly matters, so long as we know it came from Somewhere.

It seems to be a winning duo of pretense: patrons are always spilling out in lively lines, energized by the imminence of tacos. (Or, let's be honest: of decor.)

I took a photo!

The Tacos: 3/5 Relieved of its proper nouns, the meat shines. That's the wrong verb for this meat; it is, as they say, solid. Both beef and chicken were tender yet charred, juicy yet toothsome. There is of course a lot more than beef and chicken tacos on the menu, including vegetables, fish, squid, and shrimp. Noteably, no tripe, tongue, or heart. I can't blame them--I can't stomach to try such stuff, either.

The meat has been pampered, but the tortilla has been abused. The menu says they're "fresh housemade corn tortillas!" and perhaps this is true: they were fresh a few days ago. I only complain because a $3 taco (they're small) has a certain onus. It's not bad, but it's not ideal. It falls apart a bit, it lacks that suppleness. Still, I devoured it.

Acoutrement: 3/5 Your hand is forced somewhat by the salsas that are already on the taco. They have a braggable selection in plastic squeeze bottles, but my tacos came with an enervated salsa casera and some kind of orange goo. The menu tells me this is "crema." It is creamy. Oh, maybe I'm a bit stubborn when it comes to tacos--surely cream can't hurt. After all, Guy Fieri's tacos come with crema. Er.

Value: 2/5 $3 isn't absurd for a gourmet taco, but what's so special about them? Is it that Bryan Steelman went on a trip to Mexico ten years ago, and culinary history changed forever?

Other: 4/5 I have pilled this plate with vitriol already, but there's no denying this place is a phenomenon, and coming here is to experience it. It's in its prime. Somehow, it snowballed just right; everyone goes to the place everyone goes.

Overall: 3/5 Come for the above, stay for some pretty good tacos. Also, the aguas frescas are good, or at least interesting. The jamaica is good shorthand for the particular tastes appealed to here: very strongly brewed, with not much sugar.

Zack's Shack (Portland, Oregon)

 If not harrassed, he seemed tired, this waiter, host, guy behind the counter, whatever: this poor man was this place's everything, at that hour. That awkward hour between lunch and dinner, when eateries empty and coffee shops swell with the denial of the seista rolling in like fog. Actually, isn't that precisely hot dog hour? Strange.

As the only customer, how could I make the loud, unmistakeable gesture of pulling out a camera?

The dog: 4/5 This blog post is my sole claim to hot dog gourmandaise, but an excess of cultivation is alien to the taste of a hot dog. They are a fine thing, and are ruined by deliberation. It was delicious. Juicy, but not that pack of slimy weiners dripping from the fridge. Because let's admit it, a good hot dog is contained obscenity. The way we like our objects. You see? Ruined.

Acoutrement: 2/5 I misunderstood the menu, reading "coleslaw" and imagining sauerkraut. The fault is mine, of course, but is there a reason I was barred from choosing condiments at my leisure, free from the urgent surveilance of the waiter, however well-meaning? Why must I choose from these cute names under which condiments strain in nearly unreadable type? This may seem like a lot to ask, but I have one more question: Who puts coleslaw on a hot dog?

It is with some relief I note that this dog is not slathered in incongrouously soothing slaw. However, one of them is naked.

Other: 3/5 Finding this faintly sad void where later barflies would gather, I evacuated to the sidewalk benches, which was a pleasant sit, despite adjacency to the wider, busier part of Hawthorne. The gaze drifts to tacos, just down the street, and indeed, ¿por que no?

Overall: 4/5 When I ventured back inside to bus my empty basket, dear reader, a discovery! In my former haste, when I had feared the waiter's wary eye, I had missed the patio out the back door, where ping-pongers gaily swing their paddles in the sunshine--which in this blunt climate, even in the height of summer, withers. And as I departed, lo, I spied on the menu those words--nasty in form but welcome in significance--that I had suspected: "build your own." It's not exactly right, but it will do.

Big Nick's (Upper West Side)

This place has all the trappings of a New York institution. The seating is cramped, the layout labyrinthine, and the menu overwhelming in its size and variety. Which is ironic since the only thing people want to eat there is pizza, hot dogs, and burgers. And the hot dogs are worth it. They aren't the sort of trendy deep fried meat stick covered with eclectic toppings or an Asian-American fusion of heart clogging cuisine; they're just plain ol' New York street meat served up in large portions for a decent price, a good variety of toppings, and the sort of twist that makes you want to go back at least once or twice more to figure out which variation you like the best. Over the last few months, I've had the opportunity to try the hot dog in a blanket, daily double, and the Kobe beef dog.

The Kobe Beef Stick. Who could ask for anything more?

The dog: 4/5 would I take visiting friends to this place straight away? Probably not, it lacks flash and panache, the glamour needed for a 5/5. But as a regular local spot, this is where to go. If I lived closer, I'd be eating porch-style grilled  Kobe beef dogs all the time. Need a place for a date? Try splitting the daily double, two good sized and juicy dogs that come with the requisite coleslaw and fries. And if it all feels like its been done before, go for the hot dog in a blanket, wonderfully wrapped in fresh pizza dough making a sort of hot dog calzone that's worth the extra wait.

The basics, but everything you need for deliciousness

Acoutrement: 3/5 its a diner, so they've got all the basics you need and can accommodate your heathen request for ranch dressing on your hot dog. If you're looking for a rosemary bacon aioli, this ain't the place for you.

Value: 3/5 what you pay and what you get are totally reasonable. It's certainly a meal and comes at no more than $10, which seems fair. If you're not ravenous, it's often large enough to split a single plate and a side. I've never much cared if my hot dog is 'Kobe' or not, and the inflation in price usually makes it not worthwhile, but this one is huge and still stays under $10. It's my recommended go-to if you're looking for a honking piece of tubular happiness.

Pizza Dough wrapped hotdog. Juicy and plump and good.

Other: 3/5 there's certainly plenty of 'other' at big nicks. Can't claim to have even made a dent in sampling the rest of the menu, though I understand their burgers are the big offering. They seem delicious enough.

Overall: 4/5 as I said, a solid local spot. If you want to get off the beaten tourist path or want to explore a new neighborhood joint, try out Big Nick's. In a polished upper west side world, it's nice to have this unchanged dive/diner that's endured through the years.

AsiaDog

When I refer to a 'hole in the wall' and hot dogs, people usually look at me funny. But I'm actually talking about AsiaDog. When I talk about asian fusion, that could be AsiaDog too. When I say I want a hip, cool, different take on something familiar, this is the spot I can go to find satisfaction. Will it be my go-to spot for when I need a funky hot dog? Probably not, the seating is limited and feels more like a takeout/delivery spot than where I might go to hangout and munch on tasty treats, but the food is good and varied and worth popping into if you're on the edge of soho/china town and want a variation of the classic New York street food.

A delicious and gooey mess, this one.

The Dog 4/5
If someone asked me how I liked the dog, I'd have to answer, which one? Variety is the name of the game at the place, and that alone will have me stopping in again if I'm in the area. There are beef, chicken, veggie, and organic options, a myriad of topping combinations, and corn dogs. Of the four dogs tried during my visit, they were described as light, fresh, and somehow 'healthy' (Except the last one with a thick layer of deliciously heart clogging mayo). I am, of course, completely skeptical of any hot dog that seems healthy, but the dog, by itself without other considerations, was pretty good. What really makes the meal, though, are all the toppings for each dog style. So.....

Why is there purple on this hot dog?

Accoutrement 5/5
This was the big win at this place. Each menu item comes with an astounding array of toppings or spreads or additions that boggle the mind but balance on the palate quite well. Simple combinations with a twist like curry kraut and yellow mustard to more complicated mashups like pork pâté, spicy aioli, cucumber, carrots, daikon, jalapeños, and cilantro. And just for fun, you get an option of white or wheat buns. There doesn't, however, seem to be much flexibility in the topping options. This is both an up and downside. The downside is, no personal creative flourishes on your meal, but the upside is a reassurance that each dog has a perfectly grouped collection of toppings as finely crafted as a bonsai tree (or other ambiguously Asian metaphor).

Value 3/5
Expect to spend about $12-15 if you arrive with an appetite. It's not the worst (certainly not a $16 wiener) and for the price you definitely get a unique hot dog experience. Still, when you hit that $5 mark, organic or no, for a hot dog (not a sausage mind you, which is an additional dollar or two) it starts feeling pricey. There is also little flexibility in the pricing, so don't expect to play cheap and go with the 'plain' hot dog, that ain't a choice (and go get a job while you're at it, you parasite on society). This isn't a basic hot dog kind of place, and offering one unadorned of toppings would be against the ethos of the establishment, so expect a more catered, classier, slightly higher-end experience. They do have some combo specials that'll run you about $9, not bad for a light lunch.

It looks like cheese, but it's carrots and daikon radish.

Other 4/5
I'm torn by this category. There have a great selection of sides including sesame kale, wasabi potato salad, and Korean fries (that come with this aioli sauce that should probably go on everything). I like organic, chicken, and vegan options, and the drink selection and generally clean atmosphere are nice. Would it kill them to have a couple more seats though? We are talking luxury hot dog here. It's not my place to suggest (though that doesn't stop me), but these are classy dogs and they could take this to whole new level by making a holistic experience out of their product. I mean, not just Asian toppings, but go all out with table service by kimono clad waiters, Shaolin chefs, manga wallpaper, incense, and a gong after every order is complete so I can taste the entire Asian continent with my skin when I sit down for a bite. Ya man, that'd be awesome. Just sayin'.

Overall 5/5

Korean Yam Fries, and a sauce to die for.

The more I write about this place, the more I think that it's worth making a special trip to check it out. It isn't the kind of place I can see myself visiting on the regular, but in a world where every wiener starts to look and taste the same, AsiaDog stands out as as stroke of color in often drab landscape of hot doggery. There's enough variation, and its all interesting enough, that I'll definitely drop in again the next time I pass by, and I'd even make a special trip out there if a hot dog loving friend (and all my friends have to like hot dogs) was visiting and wanted something different, I might take them here instead.

David Burke @ Bloomingdale's - The Hot Dog

David Burke In the Box is one of those eateries where you'll see people drinking wine at lunch, more often than not paired with a salad. This may be a New York phenomenon, but I'm leaning towards a classy-people-in-big-cities trend. Of course, because it was created by a celebrity chef, it will have some sort of fusion, in this case between the high and low-brow of american cuisine.

Note the classy white people and tiny plate of food.

Not that any of the menu makes sense or is priced in a particularly affordable way.  Though you can get it at the store for 2 bucks, David Burke's Mac and Cheese sells for $16. Oh, that's because it has chives. Well, it makes sense now. (The mac and cheese with lobster is $24). There is simply no theme to this menu, you can have a meal of Chicken Spring Rolls, with a Pizza Entree and a side of Tabouli Salad or 'Cowboy Beef Chili' (though I prefer my beef made from cow, I was curious what cowboy might taste like).

They also have a Kobe Beef Hot Dog, and I simply had to try it.


The Dog: 2/5

Doesn't look like a hot dog, does it? More like "ode to a hotdog"

I know what you're thinking, a poor rating on a KOBE BEEF hot dog? And yet, here it is. The shape, size, snap, all of those things were excellent. The dog itself? It has none of the classic hot dog essence one might hope for. I couldn't figure out why there was little flavor or spice, or why the texture seemed just a touch off, almost too beefy. And then it dawned on me, this was a healthy hot dog. A good dog has to have a balance of fat and mystery cow bits to be good, but this seemed like straight steak meat. Not that I'd normally complain, but I wanted a hot dog and what I got was a tube shaped pastrami sandwich. 

Acoutrement: 4/5
They get a good score for inventiveness, though I can't say I particularly enjoyed it. Sauerkraut and Sweet Pepper Relish adorn the dog with a bit of dijon to add kick. The Pretzel Bun was FANTASTIC though, and should probably be used for everything hot dog related from now on.

Ah, here we have a more authentic look

Value: 1/5 
This was the major sticking point. $16 is a ridiculous price for a hot dog. Did I really care that it was made from Kobe Beef? Did that taste any different? Not really. It's not like it was so much more tender for being Kobe. If it were organic or grass-fed or included something that actually made a difference, they'd get a '2', but in the end I'd rather have paid $1.50 for a COSTCO dog.


Other: 3/5
I could probably go on way too long in this category. Let's just say when I was asked if I'd like a side of Tabouli Salad or Truffle Fries, I was flummoxed. Lots of unnecessary choices, though the yam fries are a nice idea. The green bean and almond salad still makes no sense to me.

OVERALL: 2/5
Maybe I'd have enjoyed it more if I were drinking wine. Or perhaps I simply want spices and flavor in my hot dog. A Bratwurst, Knockwurst, Polish Sausage, Lousiana Hot Sausage, any of those would have been preferable to what I had. And yet, for some reason I think I'd try it again if I went back. I genuinely have no idea why. 

Robo Taco (Portland, Oregon)

I refuse to photograph these tacos. Not because they're so horrible to look at, although I'm not keeping much from you. They come on a paper-encrusted tray, with a troubling amount of space between each flat taco. I refuse to out of self-consciousness, not wanting to be one of those people who photograph what they eat. Nausea toward unceasing aestheticism does not stop aesthetically mediated decorum, nor does it stop the internal spewing of judgements that so offend an anti-sensibility sensibility. Note that above I noted that the space between the tacos is troubling. What kind of eaters note such things? What kind of eaters, indeed, take notes? What kind of people are "eaters," when there is nobody who does not eat?

Not the intended patrons of Robo Taco, although certainly the paintings of robots and colorful, presumably taco-producing locales are designed to appeal to someone's sense of cuteness. It is not quite "stoner food," but a category of food at once more general and specific, "post-bar food." With its homey multicolored lights, it is a kind of hospital for the strained aesthetic economies that surround it, bars so dimly lit that they appear to have lost electricity--something meant to magically displace onto its customers. I may have my circutry metaphors crossed, but that's a lot of potential resistance. Just how lively can one become when sufficiently sedated?

The distance between lively and deadened isn't far. It's about a block. Here, there is nothing to appreciate and nitpick. There are no appreciators and nitpickers orchestrating experiences. There is no nuance. Robo Taco has created an ontology of taco. Taco is taco. Meat is meat. Relleno is relleno. Food does not come on the painstakingly composed plates of cuisine, but is made of discrete components. A chile relleno plate does not have a chile relleno, but has chile relleno; it contains beans, rice, and kind of Mexican mash of chopped-up chile rellenos and salsa. It's not difficult to imagine robots in the kitchen.

There is an automatism in eating here, too. When every thing is a proper noun, there is no reason to develop knowledge about any of it. It is consumed like a landmark. Which I presume is as lovely as anything can be sometime after midnight, the waning of alcohol pressing on the back of the skull, the electricity both dead and revealed not to be static, after all. I'll leave the tacos to people with such needs. Robo Taco's place in the local geography is clear, but this is a blog of a wider area and mood. We map a different index, photographing and nitpicking food because we're innocent enough to seek out innocence. We want to eat the taco that does not invite us to wonder if it's the right taco. We at Street Meat Nation are nostalgics.

The Taco: 3/5.
Accoutrement: 4/5.
Other: 3/5, but I speculate: 5/5 if drunk and/or hungover.
Overall: 3/5-4/5.

Mexican BLVD.

Some places you just love to love, and Mexico Blvd. is one of them. I won't say I wasn't skeptical, and when you walk by a pimped out black van claiming to sell authentic Mexican tacos in the middle of the Ultra-Hip Dumbo neighborhood in Brooklyn, a little skepticism is expected. I walked by a full four times, made a face at the $3 per taco menu, and eventually decided it's my god given duty to sample what they had to offer. I am humbled to say I was blown away.

Who can resist that face?  Who I ask?!  WHO?!

When you visit this truck, and you absolutely must, the first thing you'll see is a mop of curly hair above a good looking boyish face with a huge grin on it. If that doesn't lure you in, ask him about where he's from and the story behind the food and he'll tell you about his families journey from Mexico City, the hours they spend slow roasting the meat, and the take-to-your-grave secret sauce recipes. He convinced me to try just about one of each taco and threw some guacamole into the mix. Here's what you should try (I recommend a bit of everything).

The Taco: 5/5

Food Porn. Hmmmm.

Greasy taco truck this ain't. If you're looking for delectable and fried bits of mystery meat from parts of a cow you didn't know existed, this isn't the place for you. What you'll get instead is happiness all over your mouth. Warm, gooey, savory, salty, rich, delicious happiness. I forgot to ask which tacos were which, so I couldn't tell them apart all that well, and I have to say I didn't care. The marinated meats, with all the sauces were moist and full of kick. Their great-grandmother, who created the recipes, knew was she was talking about when it comes to marinades. They are absolutely nothing like the street tacos I've had in Mexico, and yet still feel fully from south of the border. Even with the overtones of Texas BBQ and smokey goodness, it doesn't lose its inherent Mexican-ness.

Acoutrement: 4/5

You see that? A whole pineapple slice. Truth.

Sure, there aren't certain things you'd expect like a choice of green or red or orange salsa to add on your own, or pickled carrots and jalapeños, but what they do offer makes up for it. They've got a spicy sauce you can toss onto any taco (yes yes yes) and the Al Pastor comes with a whole stick of fresh Pineapple. Amazing. Also, their guacamole tastes fresh and somehow green and.....well, it's just worth it. Buy a side of it and put it on everything. It's good by itself, on a taco, with chips, spread it on your little brother, wherever.

Value: 3/5

We are talking a $3 truck taco here, so when I say we've got a value of 3/5 that's because of what you get for $3. There's no weak Filling-to-Tortilla ratio here, it's balanced perfectly and three tacos will fill you up no problem. Two would likely do the trick, and while that's a bit steep for those accustomed to $1.50 street tacos, what you get is worth more than twice the value.

What is this?  I have no idea.  Was it delicious? You bet.

Other: 4/5

I wasn't sure what to put into this category until I visited their website. My thought was, if you don't even have a place to sit, your other category will probably get a low score.  (Also, there's a little grocery store across the street with tables and cheap drinks, go sit there if you need a spot.) But then, GENIUS!, they are a truck, and trucks deliver. But do they deliver? No, they cater. You know what sold me on this category? A taco birthday. That's what they advertise. So, if you're planning my birthday, let's get these guys together and have a killer house party. They also travel around to different areas of NYC instead of sticking to their usual spot in Dumbo. Anyone that believes in  spreading the taco love enough to head over t Queens gets a thumbs up from me.

OVERALL: 5/5

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NY knows food trucks. Mexico City knows taco. Put the two together and BAM, you get this place. It's even worth the trip to Dumbo. Don't want to wait in line for an hour at Grimaldi's?  No problem, just visit Mexican Blvd. Never venture outside Manhattan? Have them cater your next event. Either way, you gotta meat (get it, MEAT?) these guys and try their stellar taco.