As anyone will tell you, New York may have Jean-Georges and Mario Batali, more than one Chinatown and the Tavern on the Green, but good Mexican food is few and far between. That coupled with my age-old dislike of cilantro conspired to keep me in the dark about just how good real Mexican food can be. A trip to Baja in 2007 cured me, but quick, and I even learned to love cilantro, well, at certain moments.
I'll never forget the dusty little town we stopped in for lunch one day that September, a stray dog watching us as we ate our dripping tacos, sliced radishes at the ready, incendiary green sauce drizzled everywhere. It was one of those special moments where everything was just right: the people, the food, the strange, buzzing heat of the midday sun. I fell hard that day.
Anyway. I'll admit I was surprised to find tacos almost as good as those and certainly far better than anything I've had in Berlin or New York at a sweet little taco truck parked along the canal in Neukölln last weekend. Three euros buys you two little pork tacos, fresh and hot and delicious, from a friendly vendor who takes the orders while her slightly frantic coworker mans the flat-top. We ate them standing up, pork juice and sauce dripping down our hands and even though a chilly Berlin afternoon is nothing like a sunny Mexican noon, it was still a lovely moment. Suddenly I had visions of a party in the park this summer with the taco truck at the ready. Who's with me?