Agave (Ashland, Oregon)

If you have any sense, I won’t be able to convince you that the tacos at Agave are anything other than mediocre. But once, under the influence of oxytocin and a little alcohol, I ate tacos there that can only be described as transcendent. I objected to the aesthetics of them--the repackaging of Mexican food as self-consciously healthful and mild--yet I could not deny the sheer pleasure of biting into one. There are advantages to Mexico as discovered by yuppies over Mexico as imported nostalgically over the border by immigrants. For one, the meat was cooked perfectly, meltingly, rather than grilled or fried to a crisp. Wait, sorry, that’s the only thing. But that went a long way, and everything else was good. The salsa, while it lacked heat, had the sharp and sweet flavors of cilantro and fresh tomatoes of the non-insipid variety. The tortillas were at once crisp and soft, not stale, damp, and falling apart.


I didn’t think about any of this then--I was too surprised at how thoroughly I enjoyed it. I had scoffed at this place every time I passed its signage that proudly displays a plant as if it’s a revelation. Imagine if it had been named “Cabbage”. Though perhaps it should have been. There’s plenty of cabbage on the menu, and the only agave for sale is in the form of tequila. You may need it, if their sunny attempts to transport you to Mexico fail and you’re forced to face the food under the garish grey light of these latitudes in winter.

These transcendent tacos, they are only known by one other person, the same who I lunched with. It was pushing our luck to go back to Agave after sharing such gustatory delight there. It is to the cook’s credit that the tacos deluded us into thinking that they emanated from some ontic stability, to which we could return at our leisure. We did. The tacos literally fell apart in my hands, despite their wet innards being quarantined by two tortillas. The tortillas had come out of a bag, probably one that was at least two days old. The moldy aftertaste came from precisely that. The foundation on which tacos are built had sloughed onto our plates. What was left?


First we denied anything was amiss. Then we balked, and, finally, we rationalized. That first halcyon visit, we had come at around four when hardly anyone had been here (this second time it was 1pm). The cook must have had the time to take real care with the food, and probably there had been a different cook. Maybe they normally use fresh tortillas, but ran out today. Yes, yes, the lunchtime rush, the cook, that must be it. The experience, no, it was real, surely.


Meanwhile, we were busy with the wait staff, maintaining our own delusion, or maybe the restaurant’s, I’m really not sure any more. How is everything? Oh, good--no, delicious! The performance of enthusiasm that flares up in the friction between professionally doting waiters and polite customers can get a bit scary. The line between cheeriness and violence feels thin. The same unnaturally widened eyes could belong to someone yelling “good, I’m glad you like it!” at you or to someone stabbing you with a chef’s knife. I’m grateful whenever the fervor dies down.

Then came the flan. It more or less broke my mind. It came with a purple orchid, which my companion optimistically took as a personal gift from our waitress. If the flan was a part of this gift, it was the most mixed signal I’ve ever received. Of course, as it is with mixed signals, I wasn’t sure what part of it came from myself. Settling a slightly warm chunk of creamy custard onto my tongue with a spoon, I was given a wave of nausea. Whence? The texture was lovely, the flavor was at once strong caramel and smooth milk, and it was sweet but not overpoweringly sweet. I put another morsel in my mouth, and felt instantly gravitated toward the floor. It was perfect, yet I was not inhaling it, I was choking it down. I wanted to throw it back up, yet I ate my entire share of it. Our waitress glowingly asked us “how is the flan?” I must have looked stunned and indecisive, like a squirrel getting run down by a car. Thankfully, my companion swooped in to say “bliss”. I wasn’t sure if this was intended for our dessert or for the girl who served it to us, who seemed satisfied with the answer and went on her merry way.


I hardly remember the bill, or even going out the door. Eating there had sunk me deep into an epistemological crisis.


Ratings


The Taco: 3/5 (Some of the time, if you're sufficiently deluded, it goes beyond taconess to become something equally beautiful, the rest of the time it's a mediocre taco.)


Accoutrement: 1/5 (There are no salsas--only that which is already in the taco.)


Value: 2/5 ($2.75 a taco at the very cheapest, and just down the road better tacos can be had for $1.50.)


Overall: 2.5/5

King Gray's Papaya Dog

Here is a strange phenomenon: apparently people in the city have simultaneous insatiable cravings for 'healthy' exotic smoothy type drinks and inexpensive hot dogs. Come to think of it, I often feel a craving for the succulent savory flavor of tube-meat after eating a well balanced and nutritious meal, so maybe it's not all that strange.

Well, Are You?  ARE YOU?!

Anyway, there are a whole bunch of places in the city that fit this bill and, to the untrained eye, they may all seem exactly the same, especially since their names consist of a similar combination of the word 'Papaya' (for the featured smoothie drink) and some qualifier.  As it is right now the three most visible are:

1. Papaya King

2. Gray's Papaya

3. Papaya Dog

You can see where confusion might occur.  While the hot dog itself is basically the same damn thing at any of the locations, there are some important difference that I'll share with you here. 

PAPAYA KING

This is the original smoothie/hot dog place, located in a posh neighborhood on the upper east side.  Actually, it was originally located in a Polish neighborhood, and all they really wanted was to serve fruit drinks, but the eastern European working class denizens of the time demanded the delicate flavor of griddle-fried meat sticks, so they added hot dogs to the menu.

 The Tradition continues today as they still serve a bizarre blend of salty meats and 'healthy' drinks.  Of all the varieties in the city, Papaya King has the most diverse collection of hot dogs and toppings as well as the most variety in drinks, smoothies, and fresh squeezed juices.  They're also the only one to expand outside of NY, having opened a location in Hollywood.

Like so many other tales of innovation and greatness, this one too has enough drama to keep it interesting.  In 1973 one of the partners of Papaya King broke off from the mother ship and created...

GRAY'S PAPAYA 

Even more than it's parent hotdoggery, Gray's Papaya has arguably made the biggest splash in the healthy drink/hotdog combo world.  It's made appearances in movies, television, and even politics (mostly famously endorsing President Obama during his presidential campaign).  They have the most streamlined menu of all the different dog/fruit places offering a simple selection of smoothies and hot dogs to eat, no sausages, no chicken fingers, no nothin'.  I'd also say they're the nastiest of the places (at least, the upper west side location) and the most overpriced, but I guess that's the cost of eating trendy.  Finally, there is:

  PAPAYA DOG

Perhaps it's my inherent soft spot for the underdog (pun intended), but of all the locations mentioned, this is the one I frequent the most.  

I don't know where Papaya Dog came from, I don't think it has such a sordid past as Gray's Papaya, it's probably just a regular old knock-off, but it's cheap, has a melted cheese topping for hot dogs, and offers a whole bunch of other great crappy foods like fries and hamburgers and even vegetarian options, which, indigestible as they are, at least go with the whole theme of the healthy smoothies.  Let's get to the ratings, shall we?

The Dog: 3/5 (4/5 for the sausages)

Honestly, they really are all about the same, and quite similar to Nathan's Coney Island dog.  I know hot dog connoisseurs around the city are freaking out as they read this and I'm probably losing tons of street cred by saying so, but it's basically true.  They're long and thin and salty as hell, but they beat the pants of a dirty water dog from your typical street vendor.  Papaya King and Papaya Dog both offer a sausage dog as well, which is basically the same damn thing just fatter and fits in the bun better, which I like.  The bun-to-dog ratio is very important.  (Ok, the sausage at Papaya Dog is inferior to that of Papaya King, but Papaya Dog is two blocks from my house, so I'm biased). 

Accoutrement: 

5/5 Papaya King                        4/5 Papaya Dog                      1/5 - Gray's Papaya              This, ladies and gentlemen, is where it really starts to matter, so pay close attention.  In a world where most hot dogs are basically the same phallic shaped bit of deliciousness, sometimes it's the toppings that make all the difference.  Here Papaya King wins out.

 I haven't given a 5/5 in this category yet, but I'm doing it because they've provided an option I've never seen before: eggs.  They offer what I've always looked for, a genuine breakfast hot dog.  They also offer fries on their dogs, crunchy onion, chili, cheese, the whole nine yards.  Except mayo, only Papaya Dog seems to offer that, which for me is a necessity to fully enjoy the dog experience.  Papaya Dog doesn't offer quite as much exotic variety as it's Kingly older brother, but it has plenty of topping variety including chile and cheese, onions, and all the standards.

And then there's Gray's Papaya, silly place that it is.  Only Ketchup and Mustard.  Oh, and onion.  They may also have Kraut.  Totally inadequate.  For being such a famous place you'd think they'd offer some decent options, but perhaps there is a certain elegance in simplicity.  If you're into that sort of thing.  Me, I like toppings, hence the low rating.

Value: 

4/5 (Papaya King and Papaya Dog), 

3/5 (Gray's Papaya)

All these different spots have basically the same special, a combination of dogs, usually two frankfurters, with a drink (sometimes fries thrown in) for around $5.  It's really not bad at all, though by comparison to the others, Gray's Papaya falls short.  Papaya King is a touch more expensive, but I do have to admit that the quality is better.  They also have the best variety of combination options.  Papaya Dog has a number of good combo options and is the cheapest, though the lower quality of the sausage is a bit of a bummer.  Frankfurters are basically the same though, and they're combo comes with fries.  Gray's, however, is the same as Papaya Dog, but a dollar more with no fries.  Generally, a big lose.

Other: 4/5 (Papaya King, Papaya Dog) 2/5 (Gray's papaya)

Papaya King just offers lots of cool stuff, including fresh squeezed juice, which is great.  Papaya Dog offers all your basic fast food items, sans pizza, but the variety makes it easier to cajole your mom, girlfriend, coworker, etc. to go there with you since there's something for everyone.  Gray's only offers dogs and smoothies, which they all offer.  It's a cool extra for a hotdog place, but in comparison they are way behind.

OVERALL SCORE:

Papaya King 5/5 

Papaya Dog 4/5

Gray's papaya 2/5

 When it's all said and done, you can't beat the king; they've got options, class, and history on their side.  If you happen to be in the neighborhood then definitely check it out.  Papaya Dog gets a 4 because I go there all the time and the value is really quite outstanding.  The atmosphere sucks and I wouldn't use it as a date spot, but in a pinch it's great.  Gray's is also decent in a pinch but I always feel a little ripped off.  I'm bummed by the lack of topping and other options and that extra dollar feels like a hefty expense for what you get.  So, now you know.  Choose wisely.