Let's Taco-bout it

A few weeks ago, I started seeing a lot of hype about this new taco place opening up in the Midtown area of Atlanta. The Instagram posts promised colorful tacos, frozen margaritas, a well-lit interior and excellent patio space. Plus a rainbow bench outside as a landmark/place to wait for your Über or Lyft to show up after you've gorged yourself on tequila and lamb barbacoa. I don't know if you follow a lot of food writers, critics, bloggers, ... people like me who just like to write for a living and then write more about food after work ... on social media, but Instagram deserves some serious props for being a visual smorgasbord. We eat with our eyes first, and this platform provides enough tastebud stimulation to make you hungry even if you just ate.

The poblano rice at Cactus House

Suffice to say that there was something about this place's Insta aesthetic that made my eyes big and my mouth water. And plus, if you've been following Meatetarian Eats for any period of time, you'll know tacos are some of my favorite things to eat at any time of day, night or wee hours of the morning #ThanksTacoBell. I had to be in Midtown last night for a super-cool engineering event at MODA, which is the Museum of Design Atlanta, and I left my staff meeting with some time to kill before the workshop started. Plenty of time to run into Cactus House.

Some logistics information: if you've ever spent any time in Midtown Atlanta, you know that parking is primo (probably why they have that bench). But plus side to this place, it is next door to a public parking garage. It'll cost you less than $5 to spend an hour there, which for Atlanta parking prices is cheap. I loathe searching for parking, so I would like to take a moment and offer some Snap Cup snaps and golf claps to the owners of Cactus House for finding real estate next to a wealth of parking for customers.

Another random note (I swear I'll get to the food in a second) — there's a lot of fun graphic artwork painted on the walls in and outside of Cactus House. For example, the giant mural with a sugar skull inside the parking deck, which proclaims, "Don't do drugs, eat tacos." That, friends, is some wonderful life advice.

Anyway. The part you really came for (other than my searing with and exhaustive ooze of Southern charm) — los tacos.

I got two. And when asked by my server, the manager and a man who turned out to be the owner how they tasted, I responded with "pretty good." That's not a lie. I eat a lot of tacos, a lot of different kinds of tacos, and I must say, these have a great foundation ... but there's some room for improvement, particularly in the seasoning realm.

Fried avocado, tomatoes and creamy
sauce on top of a corn tortilla

Let us begin with the fried avocado taco. Yes. Fried. Avocado. First, perfect texture on the breading — crisp, didn't fall off the avo slices, which were delightfully thick. There were also some charred tomato slices, a drizzle of a creamy white sauce and a schmear of possibly tomatillo salsa, all topped with a sprinkle of fresh-chopped cilantro. I am a fan of this taco. There's texture, there's richness and a little sweetness from the tomato. My one point of contention was that there needs to be just a dash more salt in that batter. When I make avocado toast or put avocados on a sandwich or make guac, I have to put some salt on there. Just a little bit to really enhance the flavors not only of the avocado, but of the other ingredients on the taco.

The second taco I ordered was the pork carnitas. Carnitas, by the way, is a traditional Mexican way of cooking pork in oil or fat until it's melt-in-your-mouth tender. I have two issues with the way Cactus House's carnitas was prepared. One, again with the flavoring. The meat was a little bland — however, I could gloss over that considering that everything else on top was bomb, like more avocado, a spicy green salsa, fresh onions and more cilantro — and it needed to be braised a little longer. The meat wasn't tough, but it definitely wasn't falling apart when I bit into it. In fact, most of the meat I ended up eating with my fingers instead of in the taco itself because it fell out or I bit it out in huge chunks, rather than being able to eat everything all at once.

The pork carnitas taco had great toppings,
but room for improvement on the meat

My only other qualm about the tacos is the tortilla. These were corn tortillas, which I love love love, but there's a reason most places give you a double-stack of corn tortillas. Flour tortillas are a lot more pliant than wheat or corn tortillas, which have a tendency to split when you fold them up. I know it may be a ding in the bottom line, but I think offering two tortillas per taco would be a good move (and I would also throw in an extra 50 cents or so to make it happen).

There are a lot more on the menu that I want to go back and try — grouper, shrimp, lamb barbacoa, for starters, plus a mushroom taco (that sounds so FUN GUYS) — so I'm not going to let something like a splitting tortilla or too little salt keep me away from $3 and $4.50 tacos. I also need to go back and try the frozè, which is the latest millennial cocktail concoction taking over the Interwebs. It's a rosè slushie, so obviously this will require both a trip to Cactus House and a trip to Venkman's for a compare-and-contrast post.

Oh! I almost forgot, which is a shame because this was my favorite part. Do yourself a flavor and order the poblano rice. I am obsessed with Spanish/Mexican rice, and this was delicious. The rice is cooked with carrots, corn and poblano peppers, and seasoned with cilantro, which gives it this incredible freshness. Of course, if you are one of those poor lost souls who thinks cilantro tastes like soap, you should maybe forego this recommendation and order the yucca fries, which are going to be on my plate next time.

I also feel like I need to give a shout to the other tacos I had this week while enjoying beer at Gate City Brewing, which is just down the street from me in Roswell. I don't know how breweries do it where you live, but in Georgia, the true breweries right now don't have food on-premise, and instead support local businesses by bringing in food trucks or catering. Gate City had Carne 250, a Tex-Mex barbecue stand, outside serving up King Ranch tacos.

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was just the fact that I love tacos, but holy smoking pig, Batman. For $10 you could get two loaded tacos with smoked pork, brisket (that's a beef cut, just FYI), mole (a deep-flavored sauce, not the animal that tears up your yard), tomatoes, queso and like three other things I'm forgetting ... and I didn't take a picture of the sign to remember, so my bad. My only suggested change to these would be taking out the tortilla chips embedded in the taco filling. I don't think they added much to it, but if you feel like they're an essential ingredient to the whole Tex-Mex feel, maybe crumble a few on top. Being part of the filling made them pretty soggy.

Are you tired of listing to me taco-bout tacos? No?! (Me neither!) Let me leave you with this little bit of associated dating wisdom from this MODA workshop that spawned this entire taco venture: "Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are nachos."

On a Date with Myself

What began as a routine delivery of some Mary Kay products turned into a lunch worth writing about.

I met my aunt briefly at a new outdoor shop-stravaganza in Alpharetta, Georgia, called Avalon. It's one of those swanky places where families and young professionals with a lot of money can live above West Elm, J. Crew, BCBG or an incredibly righteous restaurant. Like Atlantic Station, sort of, but newer and with more modern architecture.

Since the delivery was at 10:30 a.m., and I had a grand total of nothing to do for the next 12 hours, I decided to stick around and take myself on a shopping date. That took about an hour, and then I realized I was getting hungry.

Did I have food at the house? Yes.

Was it the same stuff to make a sandwich like I had for every other weekend lunch when I was trying to conserve food money? Yes.

Did I really want another turkey sandwich? ... Negative, ghostrider.

Thanks for this image, Dr. Google.

I turned on my heels to find The El Felix, which I had passed on my first trip around the shops. It sounded Mexican and had a cool, kind of creepy early 1900s Halloween cat logo mascot on its to-go cups. I could go for some tacos.

Clearly, this was divine intervention: I wasn't intending on eating out. I wasn't intending on a nice meal if I did eat out. But the weather was beautiful -- perfect for sitting outside. I was by myself, perfect for taking myself on a Mexican food date because Justin is "eh" on Mexican food and I am like "LET ME SEE YOU GUAC, GUAC, GUAC" on the reg. And I had gotten paid the week before.

So that's how I found myself on the patio of The El Felix, ordering a margarita and being delighted by the cute containers that my salsas were brought out in. I had no idea what I was getting, had no forethought about "I want to go to this restaurant, order this food, drink this alcohol and go home and write about it." Hell, y'all, for once in my life my Nikon wasn't in my purse. Sorry for the really poor photo quality. But then I dipped a thin, crisp tortilla chip in the green tomatillo salsa and my life changed forever.

I will willingly drive 30 minutes up Georgia 400 for this mouthwatering tomatillo salsa. Just ... whoa.

My first impression of The El Felix: a salsa verda para morirse.
That means "green salsa to die for."

A bit of background. Tomatillo salsa is my favorite kind of salsa to begin with. Tomatillos are most commonly seen as green tomato-looking things with a husk. However, they're not tomatoes, but a distinct species of the nightshade family, along with eggplants, potatoes, petunias and tomatoes. Tomatillos are known by the Latin name Physalis philadelphica and tomatoes by Solanum lycopersicum. See? Totes different genus and species. So, tomatillos are a little tangier than tomatoes. They kind of remind me taste-wise of a fried green tomato, and are best mixed with herbs, peppers and adobo (we are big fans of adobo in my household). That green salsa you can get at Barberito's, for example, is a tomatillo salsa. It's really easy to screw up, namely if whoever makes that day's batch doesn't add enough salt or uses more salt than cilantro. Gross.

This tomatillo salsa was a gift handed down from Mother Nature to Felix's chefs Ford Fry and Kevin Maxey. Y'all, I've never had a salsa like it. It's as if the best-made tomatillo salsa and the creamiest, smoothest fresh guacamole had a mad, tequila-induced lovefest and produced a sauce that is the perfect genetic mix of both. I actually turned the waiter away the first time he came to take my order because I was too into the chips to bother to look at the menu. Oops.

When I did take a peek at the restaurant's offerings, I noticed a salsa advertised as "avocado salsa verde," Ah, assuming that these are both the same thing, that makes total sense. The avocado added to the tomatillo salsa, mild, fresh and with just a hint of heat, is what gave it the thick, creamy texture that made it so irresistible!

I also had trouble deciding between tacos al pastor (note to self: take a day on The Meatetarian and explore delectable taco fillings) and something called "Campechana de Marisco." I'd never heard of "campechana" before, but "de marisco" means "of seafood," and it was pretty hard to turn down the ingredient listing.

Campechana de Marisco, otherwise known as a "seafood
sundae." Served in a parfait glass with spoon and tostadas.

About 10 minutes (and a basket of chips and bowl of that salsa) later, I was presented with what can only be described as a seafood sundae. The retro parfait glass was heaped to the gills with seafood, chopped veggies and a delicate-handled spoon to eat it all with. This was a $17 seafood dish well worth the "usually I don't spend $17 on a lunch" splurge.

No lie, there were nearly a dozen melt-in-your-mouth shrimp, a couple of generous tablespoons of lump crab meat and tender octopus all tucked in the glass. What little room in the serving ware that was left had been doused in a spicy tomato mixture. There were slightly greasy fresh tostadas around the bottom of the glass, present to hold spoonfuls of campechana. When bitten into, they proved light and airy and gave a satisfying crunch to the light and chewy textures of the seafood and diced veggies.

I kept trying to tell myself, "This is your last bite! Then you can take the rest home and share it with Justin!"

Except that I kept eating and the next thing I knew, both my unforgettable salsa and seafood sundae were gone with the wind. But here's a great thing about this meal: everything was fresh and nothing was heavy! It was filling and satiating and I left wanting more, but I didn't feel like I had a small burrito baby growing inside me.

Now that's what I call a successful date.