COVER STORY COVER STORY PhotograPhs BY JoN

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COVER STORY WEEKLY | 10.19.17

WEEKLY | 10.19.17

At last count, there are 52 Roberto’s Taco Shops across the Las Vegas Valley, which means I don’t really need to type these words. You already know Roberto’s. It wasn’t founded in Las Vegas, but it’s a true Vegas institution—the place you end up eating after a night of hard partying and drinking. From mountains of fries piled with carne asada and guacamole to tree trunk-sized breakfast burritos, this is the spot for late-night or early-morning eats, whether you’re fighting a hangover or preventing one. And that’s the way it is because Roberto’s is delicious, and because you’re going to see at least one Roberto’s on the way home, no matter which way you’re going. Roberto’s is the single most prevalent source of Mexican food in Las Vegas, even if family restaurants like Lindo Michoacan, Macayo’s, Ricardo’s and Casa Don Juan (see Page 16) have been around longer. Founder Roberto Robledo, who came to California from central Mexico in 1957 with his wife and seven children, is one of the most influential figures in the business of Mexican food in the region, if not the country. He started with a tortilla factory in 1964, opened his first restaurant in 1968 and launched his first Roberto’s Taco Shop in 1971, eventually expanding to Vegas in 1990. (And yes, all those other San Diego-based taco shops that use the ’berto’s suffix are spinoffs.) Robledo died in Las Vegas in 1999, and today his son Reynaldo—second youngest among 13 kids—runs all the local shops with his brothers and sisters. Roberto’s is known for different things, but it really ought to be for its tremendous tacos—slow-cooked beef or chicken shredded into meaty chunks and stuffed into corn tortillas, then fried and stuffed again with cool lettuce and finely shredded cheese. You can get them in a rice-and-beans combo plate, but there’s no need, because the complimentary spicy red and green salsas and escabeche-style hot pickled carrots are all the extra you’ll need. The crunchy, slightly greasy tacos pretty much explode when you bite them, just like the rolled tacos (classic tacos dorados), cylindrical delights piled in a pyramid shape and decorated with fistfuls of guac and cheese. They’re simple, cheap and really good, no matter the time of day, or whether you know the history of hard work behind the food. Multiple locations, robertostacoshop.com. –Brock Radke

Because it’s headquartered on East Charleston—one street, all the amazing tacos you could ever handle—perhaps Los Tacos doesn’t get the attention it should. Or maybe it’s been around long enough (around 20 years) to be forgotten, even as more authentic “street tacos” have come into culinary fashion. Maybe the name is just too simple. All I know is the tacos at Los Tacos are perfect, occupying the middle ground between the big crunchy stuff and the smaller, double-corn tortilla stuff. Hit the original at Charleston and Spencer (yes, Tacos El Gordo is right there) or check the newer spot on West Sahara (opened in 2010), but come hungry. One $3 taco could be a meal for the lightweight. Warm tortillas are layered with seemingly too many tasty ingredients, starting with cheese that begins to melt once it hits the tortilla, then whole pinto beans, slow-simmered and savory. Choose your meat next, from tender carne asada and carnitas to spicy chorizo to funky lengua. Fresh pico de gallo, sour cream and guacamole top things off. The warmy sauciness of the beans adds a hearty, burritolike element to these tacos, a perfect match for chicken, beef or pork but just as satisfying if you go the vegetarian route; that’s an option that just doesn’t work at a lot of local taco shops. I can’t go to Los Tacos without getting a ceviche tostada, too, and possibly washing it all down with pineapple or mango aguas frescas. But then I can’t eat as many tacos. It’s a tough choice. 1710 E. Charleston Blvd., 702-471-7447; 4001 W. Sahara Ave., 702-252-0100. –Brock Radke

Photographs BY JON ESTRADA | ILLUSTRATIONS BY IAN RACOMA

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COVER STORY WEEKLY | 10.19.17

WEEKLY | 10.19.17

Tacos El Gordo translates literally to “tacos the fat one.” That might not make a lot of sense en inglés, but it couldn’t be more apt considering the kind of heavyweight it has become since breaking onto the Vegas taco scene. Originating in Tijuana in 1972, Tacos El Gordo first opened stateside in the late ’90s in San Diego. It didn’t arrive in Nevada until 2010, but by my calculations, seven-plus years in the Valley qualifies El Gordo as a local. I can’t even begin to count the number of meals I’ve eaten here. In my defense, my memory’s somewhat hazy—the original Vegas spot is open until 4 a.m. on weekends, after all. But I can easily recall the moment I first heard of this taco heaven. In the world’s greatest game of telephone, my hairstylist Angela told me how her boyfriend Chris—then sous chef at Robuchon and now her husband and chef de cuisine at Sage— was working with a team of line cooks, all raving about a ridiculously good but somewhat divey taco joint on East Charleston. She thought I’d dig it. She knows me well. I immediately fell for the chaotic fervor of the ordering lines, which are less “lines” than “friendly gatherings”— adobada on a spit to the right, carne asada and chorizo atop the grill to the left and every other animal part in the massive cauldron in the center. I don’t have a clue about the arrangement, but it’s obviously intentional, because each of the three current El Gordos is laid out exactly the same way. It can be kind of intimidating for the unfamiliar, but mostly it’s just fun. Always start with the life-altering, stunningly red adobada—tender pork awash in a red chile and cinnamonbased marinade carved directly off the spit. And always ask for piña. Always. Shift to the left to save some savory suadero (similar to flank steak) from the witch’s brew before finishing your meal with either char-grilled asada or slightly spicy, not too fatty chorizo. Everything gets piled into a duo of fresh, hot, griddled tortillas—textural bliss in every bite. Enough tacos and you’ll be El Gordo yourself. We all need goals. 1724 E. Charleston Blvd., 702-251-8226; 3049 Las Vegas Blvd. S., 702-982-5420; 3260 Losee Road, 702-641-8228. –Jim Begley

The second location has been a staple of the Las Vegas Weekly newsroom since it opened three years ago, and despite being situated in a strip mall on busy Eastern Avenue, Taco y Taco is far from the basic suburban fare you’ll find at fast-casual chains. Sisters Faviola and Gabriela Trujillo, daughters of Los Compadres market owner Flaviano Trujillo, opened the original TYT at Tropicana and Pecos in 2013 before expanding to Henderson in 2014, offering a much larger, two-level space where folks can get their taco game on. Both offer the same traditional Mexican eats, a point of pride that clearly runs in the family. As at Tacos El Gordo, there are a few rules here you should know upon ordering. Want a burrito or bowl? Step to the side; that queue’s on the left. But if you want tacos—and that’s why you’re reading this, right?—you’ve got three lines from which to choose and a bevy of options. The chicharrón, juicy carnitas topped with pork rinds, is a must-try, as is the beef cabeza. Yes, that translates to cow head, but no, you won’t be eating brains—that’s cesos, if you’re feeling adventurous. Cabeza comes from the cheek and other parts of the animal’s head, delivering some of the most tender and flavorful tacos around. Whatever you do, don’t feel overwhelmed; trying out new fillings is half the fun. Experiment until you find the one that’s right for you—whether that’s buche or tripas (pork and beef stomach, respectively), lengua (beef tongue) or, another personal favorite, the slow-roasted, marinated pork called pibil. 3430 E. Tropicana Ave., 702-331-3015; 9470 S. Eastern Ave., 702-749-7091. – Leslie Ventura

When it comes to tacos, I definitely fall on the side of the traditionalist. But that hasn’t stopped me from devouring some deliciously outside-the-box options, and the best in that spectrum is KoMex Fusion. Mexican food was always part of the family business for Lynda and Sonny Yi, but the idea for their fusion restaurant was something of an accident. It all started when a customer saw the owners pairing Mexican salsas and condiments with their home-packed Korean lunches, which led to off-menu items that became so popular, real fusion came next. The Yis opened KoMex in 2011, and they’ve been serving their brand of Korean and Mexican cuisine to hungry Las Vegans and curious tourists ever since. KoMex has been featured on the Cooking Channel’s Taco Trip and written about on Buzzfeed. At $2.25 per taco, it’s easy to get your fill here. Fusion tacos come with your choice of beef, chicken, pork, pork belly or tofu (calamari, fish and shrimp cost 75 cents extra) and are topped with slaw and pico de gallo. There are plenty of other enticing options on the menu, from sliders to a bulgogi torta. I might be a traditionalist, but that won’t stop me from eating fried rice and tacos together at KoMex. 633 N. Decatur Blvd., 702-646-1612; 4155 S. Buffalo Drive, 702-778-5566. –Leslie Ventura

You can typically separate favorite foods into two categories: stuff we love to make at home and stuff we’d rather order in restaurants. The taco is one of the rare dishes that fits into both categories, because a) it’s consistently delicious, b) it provides infinite variety and can be “upscaled” by creative chefs and c) it’s simple to make and hard to mess up. Crispy shells straight out of the box, ground beef seasoned beyond recognition, iceberg lettuce and shredded yellow cheese—this meal is prepared at millions of homes across the country every night, as you-know-what as apple pie and symbolic of the dominant influence of Mexican food and Latin culture on our society. If you’re crafting gringo tacos in your kitchen, make them the best they can be. Sub in ground chicken or turkey, because it’s healthier and you’re going to overseason it anyway. Skip that packet of Lawry’s taco dust and try a Frontera Skillet Sauce instead—I like the red chile and cumin option—because, hey, chef Rick Bayless is the classic white guy making Mexican food. And before you start load-in, spread a thin layer of sour cream inside half the shell, a simple trick my half-Mexican wife taught me that ensures creamy gringo pleasure in every bite instead of just a few dollops on top. Of course, you could go a little bit more authentic with your home taco-making. How? Hit your local Cardenas Market (cardenasmarkets.com), where corn and flour tortillas are made fresh daily, delicious carnitas, birria-style beef and grilled chicken await in the deli area and fresh salsas and condiments are pre-packaged for convenience. It’s a one-stop taco party, crunchy shells not required. –Brock Radke

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If big, fancy casinos on the Las Vegas Strip are all about fine dining and have no room for simple street food, nobody told José Andrés. The Spanish superchef clearly couldn’t decide if he wanted to create a killer dumpling and noodle spot or the big Vegas version of a taco truck—and that’s how Cosmo got China Poblano. Once you enter and see the in-house tortilla-making operation, you know you’re in for a holy-sh*t-this-is-great taco experience. There are some wild combinations (duck tongue with lychee, crispy beef tendon with oyster), and the prices are higher than at your neighborhood taco shop, but all the flavors and textures are on point—so much so that an argument could be made that our best tacos come from a Spanish chef in a half-Chinese restaurant. Don’t miss the fried fish with cabbage, pickled onions, ancho chiles and lime mayo; the nopales y queso with cactus, seared queso fresco and salsa molcajete; and the sublime cochinita pibil, the best $5.50 pork taco you’ll ever bite. The Cosmopolitan, 702-698-7900. –Brock Radke

It might seem impossible to avoid the roll call of overhyped restaurants on social media— Rainbow This, Unicorn That, you know the deal. But there’s a new taqueria in town, and its name is far from hyperbole. Robert Solano, the former chef at Mundo, Mingo and Olivia’s Latin Cuisine, opened Bomb Tacos earlier this year, and the food lives up to its name. Each taco on the menu looks just as colorful as the taqueria’s festive décor, almost making it too pretty to eat … almost. Adding to the warm and bright atmosphere is Bomb’s exceptional service, which makes eating there feel cozier than in your average shop. If you’re a first-timer, start with the fried shrimp taco. Topped with a creamy cilantro chile sauce, cabbage, pico de gallo and cheese, it’s bursting with juicy, garlicky goodness. The al pastor, a regional favorite with roasted pork and pineapple, is a smoky, spicy, sweet vessel of deliciousness that will win the hearts of every meat lover. Bomb Tacos also features interesting vegetarian options, like the robust mushroom tacos, bursting with spices, and the crunchy potato taco, filled with mashed papas and soyrizo and topped with lettuce, pico, guacamole and cotija cheese. Round out your meal with a large serving of piping-hot rice and beans and some churros with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Everything on the menu is worth trying, but the tacos are truly the bomb. 3655 S. Durango Drive #27, 702-262-0141. –Leslie Ventura

The first rule of taco trucks is: You see one, you eat some tacos. Actually, that’s the only rule. But it goes double in Las Vegas, where food truck appearances are mostly limited to street festivals and special events, and it goes more than double if you see Tacos La Carreta parked somewhere along Spring Mountain Road, because it’s not out there as often as it used to be. But worry not; La Carreta has opened a tiny taco shop next door to a gas station on West Flamingo. It feels like stealing to sit down there and eat $1.50 carne asada, al pastor, chorizo or pollo treasures, and lengua and brilliantly flavored barbacoa tacos cost just 50 cents more. Deep-fried potato tacos are also $1.50, and there are tortas, burritos, tostadas, enchiladas, hot dogs and fries on the menu, too. But that chicken is so juicy, and that pork is so tasty ... this feels like an eight-taco joint to me. What, too many? 9010 W. Flamingo Road, 702-8890702. –Brock Radke

It’s the bartender who greets you with a smile and should be on a tourism commercial for Las Vegas, then hugs you and welcomes you back. It’s the soft light and the stained glass, the hand-painted Mexican tiles and the tangy soup on a chilly night. It’s the service from a staff that’s so disciplined, capable and nimble in tight spaces, it’s like a culinary SEAL team. I don’t know how many hundreds of tacos I’ve had at the original Lindo Michoacán—generally beef, sometimes chicken, always off the a la carte menu—but every time I’ve felt like I’m eating with people who care about me in a place where there’s no such thing as an outsider. –Ric Anderson Four-and-a-half years ago, on the first day of the LA trip when I started believing I was going to leave New York and move for the West Coast, my BFF David Landsel drove me to a taco truck in Boyle Heights. We had already eaten lunch and dessert at two different spots. David was taking me out of the way from my next scheduled destination. It was the middle of the afternoon. I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t understand the point of this detour. But then I ate Marisco Jalisco’s fried shrimp taco. Crunchy exterior, pillowy interior, slices of fresh avocado, all drenched in a perfect tomato-and-cabbage salsa. It was the best meal of my trip. Six months later, I was an LA resident. –Andy Wang Is Mike Minor the taco Icarus? Did he fly too close to the sun and burn his delicious tortilla wings out? Is that what it takes to make a perfect taco? Minor, now back as chef at Border Grill in Mandalay Bay, formerly operated his own Truck U Barbeque truck specializing in CalifornianMexican barbecue mashups. The burnt-ends burrito is the stuff of legends, but the fried chicken tacos were equally crave-worthy. The buttermilkfried chicken, coated in cornflakes and cooked in duck fat, was finished with chipotle bbq sauce, jalracha sauce (I still have no idea what this is) and creamy coleslaw. They might be gone for now, but their story lives on. –Jason Harris The taco that changed my life isn’t really a taco at all—but I didn’t know that when I ate it. How could I confuse a taco with something that isn’t? Because I was eating a baleada, a traditional Honduran dish very similar to the Mexican staple. I had a baleada for the first time a few years ago at my dad’s house in Chicago. I woke up in the morn-

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ing to find my stepmom cooking chorizo and scrambled eggs, which I unknowingly assembled into a baleada—a warm tortilla followed by rich layers of beans, eggs, sausage, avocado and fresh cheese straight from Honduras. No breakfast taco can compare. –Leslie Ventura Four months after graduating from college, I was in my Toyota Corolla, mom sitting shotgun, heading south from Boston towards Naples, Florida. In that sun-bleached, Gulf-side retirement community I found my first job in journalism, my husband and Taqueria San Julian. You could argue that the first two had a more profound impact on my life, but that would be selling San Julian criminally short. That low-ceilinged restaurant with bright yellow walls introduced me to simple joy: tiny corn tortillas piled with succulent meats, a sprinkle of raw onion and cilantro and a squeeze of lime. I could get two and a bottle of Coke for under $5. It was the perfect lunch. Things have changed in the 10 years since I left Florida. Recessions have come and gone. We elected our first black president. The Cubs won the World Series. But Taqueria San Julian has largely stayed the same. And the same is delicious. –Sarah Feldberg The marlin tacos at Mariscos Playa Escondida are magnificent. Tender, smoky and flavorful, they’re the proverbial vacation-in-the-mouth. And I would never have known that the restaurant that serves them even existed if I hadn’t joined Justin Favela and Ras One for one of their “try every taco on East Charleston” iron-stomach excursions. I discovered a lot of hidden gems that day—the handmade tortillas at La Pupusa Loka, the inexpensive but loaded tacos at Cemitas Poblanas Mi Chula Puebla’s outdoor cart in front of La Flor De Michoacan—but it’s those fish tacos at Mariscos Playa Escondida that stand out in my mind, because to me they represent Vegas’ many great unsung taco heroes. Seriously, I live around the corner from that restaurant and had no idea it was there. –Geoff Carter

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a taco lover's slow evolution By Mike Prevatt

By Leslie Ventura It was more than 20 years ago when Raul and Maria Gil opened the original Casa Don Juan on Main Street, and it hardly resembled the Frida Kahlo-adorned restaurant locals know and love today. But before they moved to Las Vegas for a fresh start, the Gils owned a catering truck in California. Their son, Billy Gil (now manager of Casa Don Juan), describes the restaurant’s Vegas beginnings as a humble hole in the wall. The Downtown location was half the size it is today. A second restaurant near Summerlin has been going strong since 2015, and the Gil family just opened a third Casa Don Juan in Henderson in August. But the real change has yet to happen, Billy Gil says. Downtown’s Casa Don Juan is about to undergo a heavy remodel, adding more than 10,000 square feet and a second story to the already large building. “It’s one of the biggest projects we’ve got planned right now,” he says. Construction is set to begin in late 2017

or early 2018, but the restaurant will remain open throughout—so you can still get your carnitas or shrimp taco fix. The expansion is all part of Maria’s dream, the one she first had more than two decades ago. “My mom told my dad she wanted a Mexican restaurant, and my dad was like, ‘Okay, I can make that happen,’” Billy says. “And then afterward she was like, ‘I don’t want just one Mexican restaurant. I want a chain of restaurants.’” The recipes, like the mojarra al mojo de ajo or tilapia in garlic sauce, evolved over time as Raul and his original chefs—some of whom are still there—experimented with different ingredients. But it’s Maria who can take credit for the Frida theme, which is almost as iconic as the food. “She’s just astonished by [Kahlo’s] accomplishments and how she carried herself as a person, how she expressed herself and the culture of Mexico,” Billy says. “She just adores her.”

Ground beef crumbles. Stiff shredded cheddar. Barely durable corn shells. If your skin is as pasty white as mine, this was likely your introduction to the taco. Maybe your mom used actual salsa. Mine used tomato sauce, as if she confused tacos with Sloppy Joes. At least my elementary school’s ground beef tacos, to which I was introduced shortly afterward, were seasoned. My evolution as a taco eater was slow, pathetic and perhaps predictable for someone whose parents wouldn’t take their kids to ethnic restaurants. Which meant I was limited to Taco Bell for most of my teen years and zest-free fish tacos—also shelled—from Rubio’s and Wahoo’s in college, a time that might otherwise suggest dietary freedom and culinary progression. But from the age of 19 to 24, I endured numerous stomach ailments that kept me away from greasy and spicy foods—which meant no (real) tacos. Some time after my gallbladder was removed and my menu expanded, I ventured into my first authentic Mexican restaurant. What I saw looked strange—teeny corn tortillas covered only with bits of steak, onions and green salsa—but tasted wondrous. That revelation was followed by an even more exciting one: carnitas, the first shredded pork dish I didn’t smother with barbecue sauce. And finally, true taco nirvana came during a post-clubbing gorging at then-new-to-Vegas Tacos El Gordo, where I made selections featuring nearly every part of the cow, and particularly delighted in the discovery of the mighty adobada, as magical to watch sliced from the spit as it was to eat. I’ve since eaten at nearly every major taqueria in Las Vegas, but it was that night I became a fully evolved taco eater.