No, I'm not talking about making tacos. "Taco Night" is for platonic friends and your roommate who's trying to "not go out as much." Eff that noize, you're looking to get into some trouble tonight and that means you're already a few pints deep, you can't stop yelling, and - hey, look at that - someone's got twenty dollaaaaaars. In caaaaaaash. Do you realize how many tacos that's going to buy? Like a hundred. Ok, first things first. Don't be a vegetarian. I like veggie tacos too, but if we're doing this for real, you gotta know that the guys who make these tacos don't care about anything. They live to eat and they eat to die. So get down with the OG protein. Also, be in the Bay Area. Like the Mission, speciff.
- Lighting. My brother Chris originally had the Inverse Taco to Light theory, which stipulates the quality of light in the establishment is inversely proportional to the quality of the tacos. Nice, well-lit eateries will serve you sloppy joes on pita and tacos under flickering fluorescent lights taste so great, they'll give your tongue Stockholm Syndrome.
- Signage. Essentially, everything opposite is true in a taqueria. Start with the front. The sign needs to be old as fuck and not make any sense. The less it says tacos, the better the tacos. For example, "Tio Pablo's Taco Fiesta," has the worst tacos you've ever smelled. "Unleaded Gas," on the other hand has tacos so good you don't even care about the screwdriver in your back.
- Menu. No menu. Ok, fine. If they have one, it's covered in duct tape and corrections. These guys don't give a shit and neither do you. You want the truth and the truth is tacos. That's your one-word passport to Yummy Town, hermanito. What do you want in it? Everything, bitch.
- Decor. Less is more. That's universal enough, but it's definitely the rule here because if you see a sombrero on the wall or like, a cactus dressed like a little bandito with revolvers and shit you better run. That means they're trying too hard on the surface which spells you having diarrhea in 20 minutes, and in 20 minutes you're in the bar with no toilet. LOLZ.
- Salsa. In bins with a big spoons, not in bottles or jars. If it's in a bottle it's probably made in Secaucus and it's probably called Dave's Wicked Hot Loser Sauce. Homemade is the only way. Mix the green and red together to save time.
- Beer. Yep.
I think that's it. Oh right. The actual taco.
- Taco. If they have sour cream as an ingredient, bounce. If they only have flour tortillas, bounce. If they ask if you want brown rice, fucking bounce, if they're like, "black or pinto beans?" say, "pinto," and then bounce. If you get guac and they don't charge you extra, don't bounce. Eat fast and don't wipe your hands til you're totally done. Ok, now we're good. Also, if you want to know what a non-human tongue tastes like, order a taco with lengua. Eating tacos For Real is about being cool with a little mystery. Don't look at me like that, stop drinking then. And quit bumming cigarettes.
This light literally makes things darker.
Despite having no pool tables or soccer anything, the tacos were plentiful.
Happy Holidays, from We Don't Fuk Around With Decorations & Taco Inc.
I wonder what's covered up on the menu. Just kidding no I don't.
It's kind of like the beer is the dad and he's got a bunch of baby salsa twins with different personalities.