The good, the bad and the puffy tacos

New York City is shaping up to be a terrific taco town. There are taco trucks scattered throughout the five boroughs, with one even parked just a few blocks from my apartment on Sundays. There are numerous Mexican delis that serve tacos from crowded counters in the back of the store. On weekends, there are the Mexican vendors at the Red Hook Ball Fields offering tacos to both hungry soccer players and taco-aficionados alike. I enjoy these tacos, but there’s only one problem—these are authentic Mexican tacos, two soft corn tortillas stuffed with juicy pork, beef, goat, chicken, chorizo or tongue, topped with cilantro, salsa, onions and a squirt of lime. They are delicious, but they’re not Tex-Mex tacos, which can be soft, crisp or puffy tacos, and sometimes that’s what I really want.

Classic Tex-Mex tacos fall into two categories: soft tacos, which are made with fluffy flour tortillas, and crispy tacos, which are fashioned from deep-fried corn tortillas. The stuffing in Tex-Mex tacos tends to be less exotic than their Mexican counterparts, with spiced-up ground beef the most ubiquitous. Of course you’ll also find stewed chicken, fajita meat and fried fish along with barbacoa de cabeza on Sundays and eggs, potatoes and breakfast meats in the mornings. I love all of these, but that crispy taco filled with ground beef, shredded iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, cheddar cheese and salsa is the true Tex-Mex classic. And when done well, it can be just as flavorful and complex as its more authentic brethren.
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Uncle Albert, Juneteenth and lima beans

On June 18, 1878, my great-great-great-uncle Albert was sitting on the front porch of his lovely Austin home, Las Ventanas, surveying the bounty of his garden. In a letter to his dear wife, who was visiting kinfolk in Tennessee, he wrote that the honeysuckle and roses were in full bloom and that there was “a good many butter beans on the vines, in fact the vines are loaded.”

Don’t butter beans sound lovely? So creamy, rich and smooth. But unfortunately, growing up I knew them by their less-delicious name, lima beans. And like many people, I was never a fan.

So what exactly is it about this much-loathed legume that make people go, “Blech!” when it’s mentioned? Could it be the word lima? The bean, which hails from South America is named after the capital of Peru. Yet instead of pronouncing it lee-ma, as that city is known, we instead say lie-ma, which sounds like either a disease, “Sorry, I’m not going to be at work this week, I’ve got a nasty bout of lima,” or a crazy old aunt whose name is invoked to discipline unruly children: “If you don’t eat your beans, you’re spending the day with old Aunt Lima!” Or perhaps it’s the texture, which can be both tough and mushy; the taste, which is bland; or the color, which is the sheen of old green linoleum circa 1968.
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Cole slaw: taking sides with barbecue

The room was silent. Barbecue expert and writer Lolis Eric Elie, author of Smokestack Lightening, had just been asked what he thought about New York City barbecue. He paused for a little too long and then said, "Well, to give the city its due, the sides are much better in New York than they are in the South."

Unfortunately, he is correct. Barbecue is about the meat, not the sides and, well, it’s hard to find brisket and sausage here that can compare with their Texan brethren. But this weekend I had the good fortune to eat Elgin hot guts and juicy, smoky brisket right here in my own urban backyard thanks to the Big Apple Barbecue Block Party.

I have to admit, while this block party has been happening for five years, I’d never attended. I don’t like lines, I don’t like crowds and I’d much rather eat barbecue in its native environment. But my magazine was sending a reporter to cover it and my boss asked if I’d like to take the photos. Curious what all the fuss was about, how could I refuse? I only had one request: the chance to eat lots of barbecue. My wish was not denied.
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Texas sheet cake for a birthday

Anytime is a fantastic time for a birthday, but I’m particularly partial to those birthdays that fall in the month of June. In my family, I have my dear cousin Andrew, a soon-to-be sophomore at North Carolina School of the Arts. In the city, I have my old cosmic buddies, Lisa and Jeanette. In the food blogging world, we have Christine, Sam, Ronnie, Valentina, Meena and Meeta celebrating birthdays this month. One of my favorite writers (and a fellow Texan) Larry McMurtry is a June baby and well, yes, yesterday was my birthday, too.

I’m kind of shy about my birthday (OK, obviously not that shy if I’m writing about it on the internet for thousands of people to see!), and haven’t had a big bash in a few years. I’m more prone to thoughtful contemplation about the nature of aging, all shared with good friends, good food, good songs and good cheer. Melissa recently wrote about the choices people make on their birthdays and how this defines them. She divided people into two groups: those who go for the new and those who go for the familiar. I tend to fall in the latter category, wanting my birthday to be about comfort and treasured favorites since getting older is enough of an adventure. And growing up, it wasn’t my birthday unless I was eating a certain chocolate cake known as Texas sheet cake.
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