Taqueria La Carreta

Where: 8302 S. Tacoma Way, Tacoma, 253.589.0760
Hours: 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. Sunday-Thursday, 8 a.m. to midnight Friday-Saturday
Cuisine: Mostly authentic Mexican, plus American and Mexican breakfasts, burgers, salads, sandwiches
Scene: Mexican diner. Relaxed, casual, family friendly
Drinkies: Fountain drinks, Red Bull, Jarritos, Arizona tea
Damage:  $1.25-$10.99

ANNOUNCER: The month of April is special to the boys. Not for sports reasons, but it reminds them of their boisterous youth and of spring break. Jake fondly recalls a spring break spent in TJ (Tijuana, Mexico, if you don’t know) and wonderful, exotic foods and flavors that he tried. Jason barely remembers the trip. They agree that the way to tell if a Mexican restaurant is good is by the amount of English on the menu. Less is better. Taqueria La Carreta — a mostly authentic Mexican restaurant — has opened in the building on South Tacoma Way that once housed a Korean joint that made incredible humbow. La Carreta’s large point-at-the-picture menus have hardly any English. Whether there is any truth to the boys’ lunacy, you’ll have to visit and see for yourself. 

JAKE: Walking into La Carreta felt like a blast from the past. The cute young girl at the counter didn’t speak much English, and my Spanish was awful. I felt pressured to order immediately since the counter and menu were only six feet inside the door and loomed overhead. Soup is a good starter, so I pointed at pictures asking about the meat. I decided it didn’t matter and just picked one — birria de res — and the girl only smiled blankly. I selected a pineapple Jarritos (popular Mexican soda) from the cluster of canned and bottled nonalcoholic beverages displayed in front of her computer.

JASON: Yeah, ordering was tricky. I pointed at the other soup, caldo de res, and then got brave trying to saying “pollo” for chicken. When the pollo asado platter arrived it was massive. The picture showed half of a chicken. I was looking at two separate sections that had been squashed brutally flat on the grill. However unsightly, the bird had crispy skin, tender flesh and tasted great. Using my hands, I was instantly greasy and smiling. I ignored the salad and shoveled typical rice and beans in with the pollo.

JAKE: You ignored the napkins, too. The birria de res had a mostly clear broth with five-inch sprigs of aromatic cilantro and only a shimmer of oil. Hefty palm size pieces of bone-in, fat rippled beef lay against golf ball size chunks of soft red potato, carrots and a foreign green squash. I got a good rhythm of scoop, slurp and swipe going, my chin shiny with oil.

JASON: Eating an animal’s tongue seems to me the highest level of carnivorous consumption imaginable. I ordered cuatro lengua tacos. Beef and pork were also available, but that’s like choosing the mild-mannered brunette over the fiery-eyed redhead. Cradled along with chopped raw onion and cilantro in corn tortillas, it beheld the most tender, juicy, fatty meat I had ever had the pleasure of noshing. It rivaled slow-cooked pot roast at Grandma’s. My tongue hit that tongue, and it just surrendered, falling apart.

JAKE: Hmmm, that sounds like how you acted on your first date with your wife.

ANNOUNCER: This is a good moment to mention Telemundo, Spanish television, with its flashy images and amazing fashion, played on both televisions. The sounds of programming rose above conversations of other diners.

JASON: Weak change of subject, but OK. Moth — me. Flame — Telemundo. I could not stop looking at it, but back to the caldo de res. There were only two components to it — one being shredded and chunked pork, the other a brilliant reddish-orange broth. A good half inch of serious oil coated the top when it settled. Slightly spicy, this was a rich dish that screamed animal. I’m not sure if it’s because I felt like I was eating animal flesh out of a bowl of bright red blood or because the meat had a very strong animal taste to it. Washing it down with a crisp soda from Mexico made the moment complete.

JAKE: Don’t forget to mention the salsa bar. There’s semi-mild green tomatillo salsa for beginners and a thin reddish brown one for those who like a little more pain. Tangy limes, a pico de gallo of sorts (chopped onion, tomato, and cilantro), whole jalapeños, pickled carrots, and sliced radish discs round out the toppings. Warm aluminum foil wrapped tortillas were served with every dish, too.

JASON: And then there was the flan. A dollop of whipped cream sat atop sweet custard with very thin caramel glazing. It was good, but nothing to shout about.