One of Austin’s better Mexican kitchens purveys its goods from two separate storefronts in the same strip-mall parking lot in a dingy area of East Riverside. The first is a cash-only taco stand that almost abuts the road and has little charm—except that it’s open until 1am Monday and Tuesday, and 3am Wednesday through Saturday. More attractive, by far, is the restaurant that’s set back in the shopping center. In spite of the location, the sit-down joint actually manages to squeeze out a few drops of atmosphere—if only for homeliness, a friendly staff, and the Mexican soaps on TV.
Although both incarnations seem to cater primarily to the local Mexican workers, Al Pastor has acquired a cult following among food bloggers and is much discussed on the internet these days. Honesty rules here: honest, if unspectacular, renditions of northern Mexican staples like machacado (dried beef with egg); honest prices; and a disarmingly honest menu. This must be one of the only restaurants in Austin that’s this up front about what queso really is: the menu describes it simply as “melted American cheese.” In other words, don’t order it here.
Instead, try the spectacular homemade flour tortillas or the eponymous al pastor, a deliciously fatty version of the pork classic that’s not in the thinly shaved school of thought, rather chunkier than most, and thankfully restrained on the pineapple. Better yet are soft, sultry barbacoa; and fajitas, full of profound flavors of marinade and char.
The little things are just right, too. Oh, what beans, porky bits of goodness! Yellow rice is rich, flaky, exactly what it should be. Even the salsa, spicy yet sweetly vegetal, is a little miracle, as if fresh tomatoes had somehow been located in the middle of a Texas winter.
Al Pastor is not perfect. Tortilla chips aren’t homemade; eggs can come overcooked. Maybe that’s because most of Al Pastor’s customers don’t eat that gringo food; they go straight for menudo, caldos, and authentic tacos. There is one exception to this rule, however: knowing a good thing when they see it, even the Mexican customers begrudgingly bypass the more authentic corn tortillas for the delicious flour ones. Now there’s a melting-pot culinary concession for the ages.
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