El Cuñao Taqueria & Deli-233 Main St., Nyack, NY

Carnitas Uruapan- 1725 W. 18th St., Chicago, Il – http://carnitasuruapanchi.com/

Mexican is always my go-to, so when I found myself in Nyack, NY after an MRI appointment that was a delightfully swift event, leaving me with some time spare time, I cruised the main street to peruse my options. Almost immediately, at the top of the strip, I passed El Cuñao Taqueria & Deli. I continued down the street, saw a couple other possible options, but it was just 11am and I had a feeling the “taqueria and deli” would be open. It was.

There were no diners inside, not surprising since it was not quite breakfast and not quite lunch. A woman came out from the back and indicated for me to sit where I wanted and handed me a menu. I sat, then moved, trying to avoid the blast of cold air that was blowing from some sort of portable, massive, commercial unit, of some sort, perched atop a tall, reach-in refrigerator, that had to have been a heater, since it was winter, but it seemed to be blowing cold air. The next table was just as bad, as all the tables were lined up against a wall. I left my jacket on. I looked at the menu and, suspiciously, all the prices were hidden under black, Sharpie smudges. The waitress returned and asked if I wanted to order in broken English. I was still looking, I indicated and ordered a Sidral. She seemed happy with that request, like she was relieved I that, despite my being a gringo, I was familiar with the delicious apple soda from here homeland.

I’m not typically a burrito guy. I will almost always opt for tacos. It’s always about the ratios for me and burritos are usually rice-heavy and I like variety, so I can eat three or four tacos and get a variety of greasy meats, whereas with a burrito I have to commit to one. Now I love beans, pretty much any bean in any form, whole or refried, pinto or black and all those in between. Now when given the choice, I almost always choose pinto over black beans unless it’s a Cuban cuisine situation, then I go black. A good Cuban restaurant can turn black beans into something that tastes way better than any bean should. But for me, rice is a cutting agent more than an integral and desired element in Mexican food. The ratios are all outta whack…too much rice dilutes the good stuff.

She arrived with my soda and expected an order. I oddly blurted out burrito, then asked if the chorizo was the ground variety (it pretty much alway is, but once in a while, I’ll get the cased sausage cut into little pieces, meh) because when I do get a burrito, it’s often the breakfast variety- so in my brain, chorizo and burrito are regular dance partners. I’m not even totally sure why I ordered it, the pressure, the fear of inevitable regret?  And even after asking about the chorizo, I finished with, “You know what? Gimme the carnitas.” Weird, like some little hidden reflex from the back of my mind spit out my default: carnitas. The pinnacle of pork, slow-cooked, braised and roasted to melty-ness, then often fried to order, usually just for warming up in a less-than busy place but always good as it adds that little extra crispiness.

As I waited I was drawn to these dual screens showing these Mexican music videos. It was like a Mexican country music of some sort, kind of a pop-country music combined with Mariachi, or maybe this was just modern Mariachi, I dunno. But what struck me as funny and remained memorable, was that all the singers were doing their thing with a beer in their hand. I was there for a while and saw several music videos and not once did I witness a musician (that wasn’t holding an instrument or drum sticks) that was not happily clutching a cerveza while they sang and caroused. It was awesome. I wanted to be hanging out with those guys.

Underneath the suspended screens was a small grocery section, mostly canned goods and I didn’t go over there and take a close look, but being pretty familiar with Mexican food products, it didn’t look to me like there was much there that couldn’t be had any any regular gringo grocery store in the Mexican section, except for a few packaged baked goods. I didn’t see any staples like dried chilis or Mexican spices. 

The waitress brought over some chips and two squeeze bottles of salsas, a green and a red. I squeezed a little of each on chips. The green was your standard tomatillo salsa verde. It was fine. The red was delicious, perfect really for that kind of salsa. Super smoky, hot, but not blow-yo-fuckin-head-off hot. The burrito arrived and it was of the variety that must be eaten with a knife and fork, as opposed to the pick up kind. It had a little that stringy Oaxacan cheese on top that had been melted under a broiler, drizzled with crema then doused with a powdered cotija cheese, that could have also been a cheap parmesan, impossible to tell the difference. The cotija that comes in a block like feta is far superior. 

I cut in and lots of rice of course. I dug deeper like an archeologist and eventually began finding other good stuff. The beans were scarce and seemed to be mixed with the rice, making them a single entity. I found some pork and when crafting the perfect bite it was tasty. One problem was the guac. There was so little, it left me in need. Nice amount of carnitas, found mostly hiding at the opposite end from which I started. I put a little of the salsa roja on every bite, that stuff was definitely the highlight. Sharing the plate was a nice, crisp iceberg and tomato salad dressed with oil and lime and garnished with a few sliced radishes and some bell pepper nuggets.

Overall it was a decent burrito. I stuffed myself to capacity and asked for the check. When I received it I was surprised that the burrito was 15 bucks. More than a little steep for a burrito, especially for one that fell barely a tick above mediocre. No wonder they scribbled out the prices on the menu. But my full belly put me in a dream-like state and got me thinking about carnitas. Mmmm, pig, every part of it, cooked in its own lard. Many places serve only that. It got me thinking about carnitas I had in Chicago last Summer with my old friend Joe Love.

I always seek out the best tacos before I travel anywhere and this place kept popping up the last couple of times I visited the Windy City: Carnitas Uruapan. We woke up after our first night and made our way outside our Loop hotel and sat on the river to smoke a joint and ponder the possible future of the day. Joe looks up from the smoke and says,

 “I need to eat, wanna get a bagel or something. There’s an Einstein’s or some shit over there.” he points his thumb over his shoulder without looking back and passes the doob.

 “Nah,” I say I need some protein…hey there’s this carnitas place, we have to take the train, but it’s not too far.”

We had our 72 hour CTA passes so we made our way over to the El and waited on the Pink Line to take us to the 18th St. stop. Carnitas Uruapan was located in a Chicago west side neighborhood called Pilsen. One of two locations, this one didn’t have tables. To-go only, so it was gonna be some street meat for sure. The train station and surrounding area was covered in beautiful murals. I always try to compare every neighborhood I visit, in whatever city to a New York City hood, but it’s not always easy and I was at a loss this time. It actually felt a little more Philadelphia to me. (not that that’s a bad thing)

We find the place and get in line. I knew the menu before we got there. They really only serve a few things: ensalada de nopales (cactus salad), guacamole, chicharron, carnitas and tacos dorados, which are crispy, deep-fried tacos filled with either potato and chorizo, potato and cheese or sesos (pork brain). Now I’m pretty adventurous, but I wasn’t eating brains that morning. One day maybe. We approached the steamed up glass and ordered a pound of carnitas, but there were choices to be made: Costillas (ribs), Maciza (shoulder), Cueritos (pork skin), Buche (stomach/pork belly) or a mix of all cuts. Now typically when I’ve gotten tacos de carnitas, everything’s already in the taco and I’m good with that, but given the choice and in our hung-over state, we opted for mostly shoulder, with a little skin and pork belly. They simply rip it from the hunk and wrap it up in a piece of butcher paper. We ordered a few of the tacos dorado and a side of beans with two tall, cold, icey agua de Jamaica’s to wash everything down. I realized they didn’t give us tortillas, so I ran back in, grabbed them and ran back out salivating for the pork.

We looked around, there’s a park bench, but as we approached, we realized it was occupied by a drunk was sleeping it off…wait there’s another, fuck. Someone puked on that one. (it was a saturday morning, what are ya gonna do?) Finally we wandered onto what looked like a school where there was some kind of sporting activity going on. We ignored that and found a slab of concrete attached to the back of the building. It was just big enough for our asses and our pig spread. Realizing we didn’t have any plastic ware, I came up with the ingenious idea of using the tacos dorados as spoons to eat the beans. Worked like a charm. The carnitas were silky, fatty, with crisp edges and perfect. The refried beans were delicious and the tacos dorados were just as good.

After eating my fill, I lapsed into that dreamlike carnitas state and thought about Cortez and all the other asshole Conquistadores and how if it wasn’t for them, we may not be eating these delicious carnitas, as there were no pigs in the Americas until brought from the Old World. And I thought, yeah, they were some gold-hungry, murderous fucks, but goddamn am I glad they brought those pigs with them.