The Great Anti-Twitter San Francisco Taco Crawl

by David Farley on

A woman in New York once confessed to me that on a recent trip to San Francisco, so many people told her she had to eat at La Taqueria in the Mission District that she eventually wandered down Mission St. looking for this legendary taco spot. “But every place there was called ‘La Taqueria,'” she said, still bewildered, “So I just went into one and ate.”

I had to confess I laughed at her stupidity. But I could sympathize as well. The Mission is crammed with taquerias and if you’re not accustomed to accosting a stranger to ask, then you wind up in the wrong place-though I’m sure wherever she ended up she ate well. After all, she was from New York, where similar hole-in the-wall taquerias, run by Mexicans, patronized by Mexicans, with a menu completely in Spanish, are the ugly, mustached, far-less tasty stepbrother of the California equivalent. I too live in New York and so when I spent five days in the Mission District this week, I felt obligated by my taste buds to make a pilgrimage to the taqueria. Or, rather, several of them.

But instead of just revisiting the my old haunts when I lived here-La Taqueria, El Farolito, Taqueria Cancun-I wanted to try different places. I’ve recently seen a few travel stories where the writer relies on social media like twitter to determine the itinerary. The idea was good, but at the same time (steel yourself twitter fanatics), I’m starting to wonder if social media’s use as a travel tool is overblown, amplified by the travel industry because of its newness.

So I would go on a quest for tacos the old school way: by asking people face to face-yes, turning off my phone and actually talking to a stranger-to determine where I should eat next. I started in front of La Taqueria at Mission and 25th Sts. and accosted a hooded gentleman whose thick mustache suggested he knew a thing or two about tacos. “Right here,” he said, pointing to La Taqueria. When I explained that I wanted to go somewhere different, he said, ah, and pointed down the street to La Corneta.

La Corneta (2731 Misson St. at 23rd St.) is a grand, spacious place with the obligatory 20-foot painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe on the wall. Even though I was about to consume a cart full of tacos, La Corneta’s chaffing dishes soaking with red and orange-hued meats and sauces were too good to pass up. So I ordered three: pollo con salsa roja, al pastor (barbequed pork) and chorizo (Mexican sausage). The ingredients here were a step above, fresher tasting and bolder. And with just one encounter so far, I had a new place to eat tacos the next time I’m in town (or to recommend to someone on twitter!).

When I stepped outside, the rarified San Francisco sun splashing me in the face, I was the one who was accosted. A woman was handing me a pamphlet in Spanish. One that subscribed to the Jehovah’s Witness faith. “I’m only a believer in Santo Taco,” I told her. She tilted her head and I explained. “Oh,” she said, “Then you must go to Taqueria San Jose.”

And, as my mission states, I did go to Taqueria San Jose (2830 Mission St. at 24th St.). When I noticed one wall boasted a huge painting of a woman (or is that a man?) happily shaving off meat from a kabob-like haunch of pork, I knew I was in the right place. I ordered one taco-al pastor-and when it arrived, I just felt like staring at it for a while. Two corn tortillas with a mountain of shredded barbeque pork on top and a glistening layer of red salsa on the very top. I dug in and was rewarded with ultra tender meat that was heavily charred on the outside. I wanted another, but I had to move on.

My next victim was a woman selling avocados one block down the street. She didn’t speak English, but a man with a big belly came over to help out. They both agreed that I should go to La Altena (2588 Mission St. at 22nd St.). “What should I get there?” I asked.

The man swayed his head back and forth, the nickel-sized medallion hanging from a gold chain around his neck glimmering from the sun, and said: “Vaca … puerco …. pollo…” He’d ticked off a list that made up the canon of meats. And despite his advice, I ordered a fish taco at La Altena. Nevermind the guy at the register didn’t know what kind of fish it was. Lightly breaded and very flaky, the fish was bland, aided by the contrasting texture of fresh, stiff cabbage on top and some tangy green salsa. It was the one miss on my journey so far, but then again, I shouldn’t have deviated from the advice I’d received on the street. I should have stuck to animals that had legs, not fins.

Five tacos in, I was getting full. But I had to carry on. So I asked a twenty-something guy selling ice cream. “Taqueria San Francisco,” he said with such enthusiasm his breath was shooting exclamation marks. He pointed down 24th Street and then shook my hand. This was something that would never happen on twitter. I commenced my journey. I don’t know why, but I’d never been down this way, which is a shame, because the blocks of 24th St. south of Mission St. (SoMi?), were an intriguing yet incongruous mixture of Salvadoran and Mexican restaurants, shops that sold Virgin Mary candles, hipster coffee houses, and restaurants that served brunch. I was so enjoying it, in fact, that I was almost disappointed when I happened upon Taqueria San Francisco (2794 24th St. at York St.).

I was especially disappointed when the interior had a certain stench to it, one that smelled like a bathroom; not necessarily a dirty bathroom, but a commode nonetheless. No one wants to be reminded of such tings in the place you’re about to consume food. But I’m glad I ordered: the al pastor taco was the best yet: unlike the charred pork meat at Taqueria San Jose, the meat here was soft, a little bit chewy and interspersed with cilantro, diced tomatoes and fresh onions.

With my stomach full, my anti-twitter taco crawl would come to a close. Who knows, maybe my twitter friends could have recommended even better places. The fact is though: just as my friend in New York discovered when she was looking for La Taqueria, a visitor to San Francisco can visit in any taqueria in the Mission District and be satisfied.

David Farley is the author of An Irreverent Curiosity: In Search of the Church’s Strangest Relic in Italy’s Oddest Town.

Ethiopia’s northern borderlands: Tigray and its ancient civilization

by Sean McLachlan on

Driving north out of Ethiopia’s Amhara region into the borderland province of Tigray, the landscape becomes rockier and drier. The mountains rise higher and are more frequent, and at times sheer cliffs loom above the road. This is a harsh land with a harsh history. The bloody Ethiopian civil war and the war with neighboring Eritrea destroyed villages and crops and killed hundreds of thousands. Burnt-out tanks sit rusting by the side of the highway and huge refugee camps, cities really, house entire populations that have fled hunger and oppression in Eritrea for a better life in Ethiopia.

But there’s another side to Tigray. There’s peace in the land now and the children are just as friendly as in the rest of Ethiopia. The adults are friendly and hospitable too. And there’s a proud history to this region. It was here, in the fourth century BC, that the great civilization of Axum was founded. Its reach extended across what is now Ethiopia and Eritrea and even to the other shore of the Red Sea in what is now Yemen and Saudi Arabia. It brought Christianity to east Africa in 325 AD, making Ethiopia the second oldest Christian nation in the world after Armenia, which converted in 301. An important trading center controlling the Red Sea and exporting African goods to the rest of the world, the ancient Greeks recognized Axum as one of the great civilizations of the world. Axumite coins have been found as far away as China.

The remains of Axum are as imposing as the land itself. There are several important archaeological sites in the area and a proper visit will take at least a couple of days. The Dongar palace, reputed home of the Queen of Sheba of Biblical fame, has large central rooms, a complicated system for moving water, and a warren of smaller quarters for servants and supplies. Nearby is a desolate field with hundreds of standing stones, the graves of royalty. Some are small and have fallen over after centuries of weathering, while others tower overhead, monuments to great kings and queens who are now forgotten.

%Gallery-90136%Another impressive palace is that of Ezana, the first Christian king of Axum. Beneath its floors lies the tomb of Basen, known in the West at Balthazar, the wise man from Africa who came Bethlehem to honor the infant Jesus. Nearby is an equally evocative sight, a simple slab of stone covered in writing. A closer look reveals there are three different languages on it: Sabaean, an ancient Yemeni script; Ge’ez, the traditional language of Ethiopia that still survives in the Christian liturgy; and Greek. This Rosetta Stone of Ethiopia was discovered by two local farmers just a few years ago.

By far the most impressive and famous part of Axum is the main field of stelae. One is that of King Ezana, rising 23 meters into the clear blue sky. On the day we went the crescent moon hovered just above it. An even larger stela lies shattered where it fell nearby. Another stela, measuring 26 meters, was stolen by the Italians when they briefly occupied Ethiopia from 1936-41. Mussolini set it up in Rome as a monument to his power, but within a few years Communist partisans had shot him and hung him up by a meat hook as an object of public scorn. Fascism in Italy was destroyed, but it wasn’t until 2005 that the stela finally returned to its rightful place.

These stelae are carved with depictions of windows and doors like houses. Clambering around these monumental remains I wondered about the symbolism. Did it represent palaces built by the kings when they were alive, or a house of the spirit like in Egyptian tombs? Perhaps it had a different meaning now lost to time. There’s also the mystery of how these monuments were erected in the first place, and why this incredible civilization declined and was eventually overcome by its enemies. I’ve been to some of the greatest archaeological ruins in the world and they all have one thing in common–they’re all ruins now. We shouldn’t assume our own civilization is eternal. If we do, we’ll be making the same mistake as the Incas, the Egyptians, the Romans, the Axumites, and dozens of others.

Not far from Axum is the pagan temple of Yeha, dating to about the 8th century BC, although nobody is really sure. The temple, which still stands 12 meters high, is related to the Sabaean culture, which once dominated the southern Saudi peninsula, and it looks like its cousins in Yemen. The place later became a church and monastery, and a cross-shaped window casts a bright yellow light on the interior.

Heading out of Axum, we skirt close to the Eritrean border, still technically a war zone because the two countries haven’t signed a peace agreement since the cease fire took effect in 2000. A pair of soldiers, country kids who couldn’t be more than eighteen, hitch a ride and tell us how bored they are and how much they miss home. One of them eases an arm around my wife’s seat back and gives his friend a proud grin. I look at him to show I’ve noticed, and he blushes and pulls his arm away. We get to their stop, a bare stretch of road, and they shoulder their Kalashnikovs, waving goodbye and wishing us a pleasant journey.

Next time: climbing to a clifftop monastery and exploring the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela!

You can read the rest of the Ethiopia series here.

From street kids to culinary stars in Vietnam

by David Farley on

As I strode into the restaurant, relieved to take a brief respite from the chaos that is Saigon’s streets, a warm smile greeted me. A young man, probably in his late teens, led me to a table and handed me a menu. There were fried pork ribs with lemongrass, ginger-braised chicken, steamed prawns in coconut juice. Not terribly surprising southeast Asian fare. But this was a surprisingly different restaurant.

People don’t come to Vietnam to eat. At least not historically. They came for other reasons. The Khmer, the Chinese, the French, the Americans came to occupy, to settle, to pillage, to exploit, to push back, or various other things that didn’t always sit well with the locals. And while they didn’t come for the food, their influence on Vietnamese cuisine is now indelible. The Khmer influence can be seen-or, rather, tasted-in the south, the Chinese in the north, the French all over the place (banh mi, anyone?).

But, like a lot of people these days, I came to Vietnam to eat. And I ate everything I could that didn’t previously bark. Including the wince-inducing stuff: rat, snake, pigs blood and various “other” parts of mammals. The Vietnamese are fiercely omnivorous and, like other southeast Asians, they don’t waste much of a plant or animal.

And while I left thinking that I could spend a decade or so eating my way through the country-the steaming bowls of pho in the morning, street cart sticky rice flavored with exotic fruits, the sweet, caramelized clay pot dishes have left me dreaming for more long after I departed-there was something else that was tugging at me: namely the estimated 19,000 street kids in Vietnam.

And the restaurant I was eating at in Saigon was trying to do something about it. Welcome to Huong Lai, a pioneer of sorts, not because of the acclaimed food it serves, but because of the employees. They’re all street kids, orphans whose first years of life were one of begging for money and sustenance.

Haong Lai isn’t the only restaurant and training center in Vietnam to turn streets kids into culinary stars. Koto, in Hanoi, has been doing the same. There’s also a similar school/restaurant in Cambodia. And they’re not just learning how to prepare spring rolls. They’re trained in cooking western dishes as well as other aspects of restaurant hospitality and they’re taught English.

The latest to throw its toque into the kitchen is Streets International. Located in Hoi An, on the central coast of Vietnam, Streets was founded by Neal F. Bermas, a resident of Hoi An and New York City who teaches at New York University. The school and restaurant, located smack in the center of UNESCO-protected Hoi An, received donations from various international organizations as well as an annual charity event in New York City. Which was where I caught up with Bermas last week. While the attendees were munching on food from restaurants such as Blue Smoke, Cabrito, Tabla, and Colicchio & Sons, Bermas told me about that light bulb moment for Streets: “It was my first night in Saigon over a decade ago and I came across these streets kids. They had these dark yet beautifully compelling eyes. And as time went on, I just kept coming back to that image.” Bermas hopes to expand the model to other parts of Vietnam and even southeast Asia.

Which got me wondering: what is it about southeast Asia, in general, and Vietnam, in particular, that has bred this great idea to deal with poverty? Bermas had an intriguing answer: “This model works particularly well in so-called developing countries when the tourism industry is just starting to take off.” And in Vietnam it’s doing just that. Tourism is up fifteen percent in the last few years. The economy grew last year by four percent, which is a lot considering most of the world’s economic activity has slowed to a crawl.

Because Streets International is about a year old, no one has graduated from the 18-month training program yet. But the endeavor can already be called a success. Not just for taking a handful of kids off the streets. As Bermas told me last week, Nam Hai, the upscale resort on the coast near Hoi An, has said they would hire the entire first batch of trainees.

Now that’s well worth tucking in to a bowl of steamed prawns in coconut juice during your next visit to Vietnam for.

David Farley is the author of An Irreverent Curiosity: In Search of the Church’s Strangest Relic in Italy’s Oddest Town.

What German McDonald’s thinks of New York City

by Jeremy Kressmann on

Apparently Germans really like to visit New York City. How else to explain a new Big Apple-inspired menu of cupcakes, now appearing at McDonald’s restaurants across Germany? According to food website Eater, the new German cupcake campaign features sweet desserts named after New York’s “tourist hot-spots,” including Chelsea, Central Park, SoHo and the East Village. The campaign appears to be a tribute to the New York’s never-ending cupcake craze, inspired by famous bakeries like the perpetually crowded Magnolia Bakery.

Each cupcake also comes complete with a trendy description and suitable New York-style “hipster” mascot. Did you know for instance that the East Village is home to all of the city’s most famous artists? Maybe 30 years ago. Even if it’s slightly off the mark, it’s always interesting to catch a glimpse of another culture’s take on your own. In a way, famous cities like New York have become global brands, exporting their cupcakes, t-shirts and grocery stores around the world.

Anybody seen these on the menu on a recent trip to Germany? Share your thoughts in the comments.

The Sunday roast: British cooking at its best

by Sean McLachlan on

Who says the British can’t cook?

Every Sunday all across this green and pleasant land pubs serve up a fine roast. The Sunday roast is an old tradition here. It generally includes chicken, beef, pork, or lamb, along with vegetables, potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding, all washed down with a pint or two of real ale. Some pubs even serve vegetarian roasts.

The quality of the pub roast varies widely, so it’s best to get some local advice. Many pubs don’t have a real kitchen but rather a microwave where they heat up packaged meals. A true pub will spend hours getting their roast together and you can taste the difference with your first bite.

If you’re in London, the folks at Time Out have made an excellent guide to the best Sunday lunches in town. Many are pub roasts, but there are other meals on offer too. We’ve also written up some suggestions for gastropubs, which are pubs that specialize in gourmet cooking.

In Oxford, there’s an excellent pub roast at The Fir Tree, which is where I took this photo today. As you can see, I’ll be skipping dinner.

So next time you’re enjoying a Sunday afternoon in England, take a break from their amazing and countless curry joints and tuck in to some fine British cooking.