I love tacos. Providing they’re good tacos. Anyone who’s been visited by Montezumas Revenge cant attest that there are such things as bad tacos. No matter how delicious they might taste at the time. But there are, amongst the tens of thousands of taquerias in the Distrito Federal, good ‘uns and bad ‘uns. I had my favourites. And there were a few I avoided.
I guess the English version of the taqueria is the traditional cafe serving up a full English breakfast. Even in the darkest days of British cuisine, when our food was mocked and ridiculed and its reputation was at its lowest point, most people – locals and visitors alike – still agreed that a full English breakfast was a gastronomical treat. Greasy? Oh yes. Heart attack in every bite? Too true. Simple fare? Anyone can fry one up.
Like taquerias, you can find good cafes and bad cafes. No one wants sausages full of gristle, plastic bacon, soggy fried bread and overcooked eggs. And a full English should always, but always, have a slice or two of black pudding. Breakfast just isn’t breakfast in this country if there isn’t some congealed blood on the plate.
I found a good ‘un at the weekend. I’d walked past before, without enough cash in my pocket to be able to make a stop. The smell of frying bacon tormented my senses, but alas. It had to wait. Till last weekend. The cafe in question is, rather ironically to my mind, located in a large nature reserve Where people go for healthy walks. And then undo all that hard cardio work with every bite. But it’s such a good bite. Here’s a photo of my breakfast. Pre-bite…
Is a full English breakfast as good as a taco? I guess it depends on what’s in the taco. But above all, it depends on the location. On a frosty, sub zero morning in an English forest, I suspect a taco just wouldn’t quite do.