Tulsa taco crawl, pt. II

Continuing the search for T-Town’s tastiest taquerias

In Part I, the author and his dining companions J. and C. spent an early Friday evening tackling a few of Tulsa’s standout taquerias, with stops at Tacos Don Francisco, La Flama, and Mexican Corner. We join them now—bellies pooching, jaws throbbing—as they continue their pursuit for the best tacos in T-Town.

El Rio Verde (38 N. Trenton Ave.) has a throwback air with its lunch counter and swiveling stools, but those hankering for a nostalgia diner’s bland offerings should take heed: The chile plants flanking El Rio Verde’s southern wall serve as a warning that the salsa here doesn’t pull any punches.   

The chile de arbol salsa, a scarlet lacquer that packs a wallop, melted blissfully into the grilled shrimp taco. Several supple crustaceans swam in cream sauce beneath a bed of shredded lettuce, while the construction of it all helped keep the salsa-induced insanity at bay.

The al pastor boasted kabob-ish chunks of pork that proved the most texturally satisfying of all. Succulent and rich, the meat was just on the verge of falling apart.

Also well received was the deshebrada taco. Abundantly stuffed with ribbony, shredded beef and topped with a smoky sauce, the deshebrada needed no adulterating.

The fish taco featured breaded tilapia, which was moist and well prepared—but, when starches steal the show, the delicate taste of the fish gets lost in a carb cloud. Such was the case here, though stripping off one of the two tortillas helped keep the focus on the fish.

The carnitas taco, while still a bargain at $1.50, wasn’t as nicely browned or strongly porcine as expected, and the corn tortillas—while finely griddled—seemed thicker and somewhat diluted the other flavors. None of this, however, prevented us from cleaning our plates, as even underwhelming carnitas are still an apt vessel for guiding salsa through the gorge.

Saturday

With only a few hours to rest and digest, J. and I rose with renewed commitment to a day spent in the maize maze. C. was waylaid with work, but promised to join us later.

Tortilleria De Puebla (3118 S. Mingo Rd.) is both a restaurant and a tortilla manufacturer occupying two retail fronts. The sit-down restaurant and tortilla factory (which has several booths for more casual dining) are separated by a comic book store, though they presumably share a kitchen.

One thing was clear from the outset: De Puebla was in it to win it. On the table, we found a shaker of Mexican oregano (a pinch adds herbaceousness) and our food came with escabeche carrots, radishes, and an addictive table salsa. The chips, made from De Puebla’s own tortillas, were thick and flaky, while the tortillas were soft and airy.

On top of having more accouterments, a gold-standard table salsa, and fresh tortillas, De Puebla was absurdly affordable at $1.00 per taco.

The al pastor was on par with Don Francisco’s, and the barbacoa (beef cheek) was flavorful and juicy, if a tad oily. However, the pollo and tripas tacos were gold-medalists.

The shredded chicken boasted a well-rounded flavor that breast meat alone lacks, and the tripas weren’t disguised in any way. Each individual tripa was plump (not pressed or chopped) and uniformly browned. Tripas’ color can reveal a lot about its texture. Off-white tripas will be chewier. The longer the meat is grilled, the more it sweats, developing a mahogany hue and crackly sear.

I left De Puebla thinking it would be difficult to find better tripas, but a challenger arose almost instantly. A taco truck idled across the street, beckoning us like a meat-filled oasis on wheels. The universe had opened a door, and so we stepped through.

Don Tacos (3111 S. Mingo Rd.) specializes in tacos and Mexican hot dogs, which have more toppings than your average pizza. While the dogs—loaded with bacon and more—were a tempting offer, we held firm.

The tripas taco rivaled De Puebla’s in terms of color, crispiness, and mild flavor, though it’s difficult to compete with freshly-prepared tortillas.

Don Tacos is owned and operated by members of the same family that runs Mexican Corner. While De Puebla’s pollo was still in the lead, Don Tacos’ pollo edged out Mexican Corner’s in two small ways: larger portion size and moister chicken. Additionally, the roasted serrano at Don Tacos was undeniably hotter than Mexican Corner’s, and I believe every meal should hurt a little. (It’s how good meals are earned.)

Next up was Supermercados Morelos (12920 E. 31st St.), which offers—along with groceries—an array of prepared foods like tacos, tamales, and full plates. However, we had stopped for the pastry case.

Brimming with croissants, brightly-colored conchas, empanadas, and churros laced with cajeta (a rich caramel made from goat’s milk) the selection was impressive. Like donuts, churros are best straight from the fryer, and while the churros at Morelos weren’t piping hot, this didn’t prevent them from being less heavenly when reheated in a home toaster. (Full disclosure: I have previously inflamed a toaster by cooking things other than sliced bread, so use caution!)

On the road again, we passed several taco trucks that were shuttered and therefore unable to help us gullet ourselves senseless. We took refuge at La Reyna Taqueria (11649 E. 21st St.), a truck that serves as the mobile arm of the brick-and-mortar La Reyna (831 N. Sheridan Rd.)

We were immediately impressed by the menu size: 13 different fillings in seven possible containers. In addition to tacos, La Reyna offers tortas (hot sandwiches), burritos, quesadillas, gorditas (stuffed masa cakes), and sopes (masa cups with beans, meat, and cheese). Other vessels included huaraches (double-wide tortillas), sincronizadas (elevated quesadillas), and flautas.

Seeing it for the first time, I ordered the suadero taco, or “rose meat.” This lean cut from the upper hindshank usually finds its way into ground beef and is known for its pleasing softness.

The texture of the suadero was fantastic. Sliced into thin strips, it was so tender and light in color I initially doubted it was beef, thinking it chewed like pork. The flavor, however, was unmistakably bovine.

The tripas at La Reyna were served without much chopping or pressing and were somewhat pale, which meant less rendering and plumper bites. Like the minimally messed-with suadero, these were a purist’s tripas: gamey, rubbery, and slippery too.

The pastor taco was sweet and glistened with caramelized onions, but the pollo taco triumphed here. Still, it could not unseat De Puebla’s despite nearly doubling the portion size.

Saturday Evening

C. joined us at our last stop: the mystery truck we’d spotted excitedly—as though spying a lion or a sasquatch in the brush—while driving to El Rio Verde.

Tacos El Chino (223 S. Utica Ave.) had a tented seating area and a rare offering that I immediately requested: chicken tinga. While none of the chicken we’d tried thus far came in a sauce, chicken tinga is a dish that distinguishes itself with a chipotle adobo made from vinegar, garlic, and tomatoes.

Like the deshebrada at El Rio Verde, tingas’ flavor profiles shine on their own.  J. and C. both agreed that had they known how good tinga was, they would have ordered it over their standard chicken tacos, which were passable but not contenders.

The tripas tacos, on the other hand, were just as good as De Puebla’s in terms of care of presentation, preparation, and management of crispiness and chewiness. Each bite took me further and further into a daydream where meat echoes rippled across my memories of the past 24 hours. I doused the rest of my taco in Tacos El Chino’s avocado green sauce and took another bite.

Before long, the tripas—like the memories of the bad tacos I’d eaten that started my Tulsa taco tour—quickly disappeared.