I'm a Pastorero!

It's not often that I get to use the words "succulent" and "budget" while simultaneously describing the same restaurant, but you're going to have to brace yourself, because it's coming.

Back in January, Jenny and I noticed a new arrival in Brigham's Landing, and the sign read "Pastorero". Being the gastronomically inclined individuals we are (Have you noticed my waistline? I'm going to have to annex some space in the next county!) we seized the opportunity to wander down there as soon as we could.

Because my parents and Granddad Infanger were with us, we got to sample a pretty wide cross-section of the menu on our first trip. I had the Alambre with Pastor meat, Jenny had the Gringa Quesadilla, my Mom had the Torta de Alambre. . . honestly, I don't remember what Dad and Grandy had because by the time I tried to remember I was on the edge of a taste bud overload coma. We tried half of the menu, including the flan, the tres leches, the melon drinks and the paletas. Bad news. It's all good. You're going to have to go back quite a few times to experience all of the tasty, melty, tangy goodness.

What am I talking about? Well, imagine this. You know all of those places that promise fresh, authentic food that doesn't taste like it came out of a can marked "Rosarita?" Yeah, this isn't one of those places. They don't bother with making claims like that because it only takes one taste to realize that there's no danger of being disappointed by the boring or bland. I'm not sure exactly why that is, but I suspect it has a lot to do with one thing. Focus.

Most of the restaurants I have been to suffer from a lack of identity. They are "south american" or "mexican" or "taco" joints. These guys have narrowed down their cuisine not just to a continent or a country, but to a little-bitty cart on a street corner of downtown Mexico City. They have modeled their menu after the offerings of the local vendors who don't care about much other than having the best tasting food around. I'm okay with that.

This focus really starts to make a difference where the cheese hits the tortilla-- literally. The head honchos at Pastorero had their little hearts set on using a cheese which is not available off the shelf here in the U.S., so rather than changing their recipe, they arranged to have a foodservice company import their cheese from a little town in Mexico where it is handcrafted from only the finest ingredients by a team of cactus pixies in sombreros. (True story. . . mostly.)

This resistance to compromise pays off-- their Queso Fundido is a candle-lit cheese fondue which is delightfully mild and creamy-- this adherence to the Pastorero ethos means quality and authenticity concerns never arise. We tried the Pastor, Chuleta and Asada meats-- each was excellent in it's own right, but I was especially impressed with the individuality of each dish-- some places seem to dump the same spices on all of the different animals and the result is a narrow and somewhat boring palate. Not so here. I love the Pastor, but I am anxious to try the Chorizo because I know that there is a flavorful new adventure waiting for me.

I'd better wrap this up soon, because I'm drooling on the keyboard and that isn't covered in my extended warranty. Try the salsas. All of the salsas. They have a wonderful selection including spicy chipotle salsas, a guacamole salsa and a tomatillo that are each unique and worth savoring. Their pico de gallo is fresh and refreshing-- an excellent complement to warm, gooey goodness of the Gringa Quesadilla, if I may say so.

Here's the kicker. Jenny and I have been back (and will be back often), but we can't figure out how to spend more than $20 at Pastorero--including a kid's quesadilla for Ian. The food is wonderful, the portions are just about perfect, the atmosphere and decor are pleasant and unobtrusive (no mariachi music, thankfully!) and the price borders on the incredibly cheap side of reasonable. Call me for lunch. I already know where we're going. Pastorero!