Nomadic Narrative

Without a doubt, one of the foods I crave most is Mexican. And not the kind you might find at an upscale restaurant―or even in Mexico―but the dishes enjoyed at the mom-and-pop, hole-in-the-walls that dot border cities like San Diego, California. Let’s call it one of my comfort foods. However, sometimes even a version of one of my comfort foods will suffice, and at times, even surprise me.

While I was walking around the central plaza in Heredia, Costa Rica this weekend, a silver tray containing rolled tacos the size of a banana caught my eye. Coins rattled to the background of two sizzling vats of grease as the cash register drawer opened and closed. The single hot food display case, just steps from the sidewalk, housed rolled tacos, fried chicken and chicharrones. The menu also listed hamburgers and hot dogs.

One “Super Taco” please, I said. I didn’t see a Super Taco “combo” option, so I just decided to order it and see what happened. In SoCal, rolled tacos are usually set upon a bed of shredded lettuce and topped with guacamole and cheese.

Wearing a short-sleeved, neatly pressed white shirt and a cap, the cook gently submerged the rolled taco into the vat. He turned and pulled a hand towel-size sheet of wax paper from a box and placed it on a cutting board. With thongs, he picked up a clump of shredded cabbage and placed it on the paper and then doused the greens with mayonnaise.

Turning right without moving his feet, he lifted the taco out of the grease. Saving me from extra calories, he let the taco move to a slow drip and then he placed it on top of the mixture. At the blink of an eye he had grabbed the four corners of the wax paper, lifted everything into the air and twirled the mixture shut. The taco package ended up in a paper bag along with a fork and a napkin.

I indulged on a nearby park bench. The tortilla was crisp but it didn’t break apart when I ate it. Generously stuffed with shredded beef, the Super Taco was a meal in itself―a new, messy favorite.