Morning, all.
It's hard to choose a best Mexican meal when you live in a city with a taco stand on every corner. One of the places on the northwest corner of my house has the best carnitas breakfast tacos (roasted, shredded pork crisped at the edges) you could ever want. There's a taco truck a few blocks away to the southwest that is open until 6 a.m. offering mini-tacos with roasted, marinated pork and topped with loads of fresh onion and cilantro. A little lime juice and habanero salsa, and you're happy, happy.
The Mexican-Ecuadoran place on the southeast, the Mexican seafood taco truck next to the grocery, the Mexican home cooking with the magnificent beef soup with bones full of delicious marrow ... all within walking distance of a suburban house.
Yet the best Mexican dinner I have ever had was in Matamoros, a border town now overrun with violence. The place was called Mi Pueblito and was decorated with plenty of saltillo tile and large cages filled with parrots, cockatoos, etc. Perfect margaritas with extra salt, followed by two types of sauteed mushrooms, one with a chile cascabel sauce, the other marinated in white wine. A parrillada platter (a mixed grilled) that could feed our table of eight was brought out for two and we feasted on smoky sausages, mastodon-sized ribs, and more. A few moer margaritas, some excellent guacamole, handmade corn tortillas. Best of all, sharing it with wonderful friends, which makes any meal, not matter the style of food, memorable.
