As a deep exploration of food, unabashed travelogue and sneaky seminar in language and culture, Netflix's Taco Chronicles series makes you want to immediately board a plane for Mexico. Yet inevitably, the show had to take us where the taco has also gone: the United States.
The latest iteration of the series takes viewers to Los Angeles, Chicago, New York and, of course, San Antonio. One of the regular expert commentators obligingly observes that San Antonio is "the cradle of Mexican food in the U.S."
So, no need to hop a plane. According to Taco Chronicles, all we need to do is slide over to the Alamo City's El Pastor Es Mi Señor and sample its "pinches tacos chingones" if we want to experience cuisine at its finest. The other restaurants featured in the SA segment are Con Huevos, 2M Smokehouse and Naco 210 Restaurant and Food Truck — all also worthy of attention.
But let's stick with El Pastor Es Mi Señor. The taco al pastor is the bedrock — the spiritual foundation — of the operation, and it's a solid footing indeed.
It's pretty much accepted history that the al pastor originated in Puebla, then quickly jumped to Mexico City, as a variation of the shawarma, or tacos árabes, brought by Lebanese immigrants. As Chronicles relates, the original lamb eventually became pork marinated in chiles and other spices, and the result, if not on every street corner, is still immensely popular. On a recent visit to Mexico City, we had to drive around for an hour one early evening to find a taqueria whose trompo, or vertical spit, hadn't already stopped spinning for the day.
Similarly, there's an "or until sold out" asterisk on the closing time for El Pastor, so you're warned. Al pastor tacos aren't the only item on its menu, but Taco Chronicles featured its signature dish for a reason: the tacos are spectacularly good.
Presented on doubled, tiny tortillas, the marinated pork — sliced directly from the trompo where it's been meticulously layered, sports a crispy, achiote-colored crust played against a succulent interior. A scattering of chopped onion and cilantro offer contrast, along with welcome shavings of pineapple, the origins of its use being much debated. Add cheese and this becomes Volcan al Pastor.
Though the tacos are so flavorful that you could easily eat them without sauce, the management and I both encourage you to douse them liberally in the almost-polite salsa verde. The combination is killer, and if you order five, you save $1. Go ahead. You know you want to. I know I do.
The Taco Chronicles episode shows El Pastor's staff thinly slicing and marinating sirloin then spitting it onto a trompo along with sheets of trimmed fat for lubrication, creating a variation of the el pastor. The campechano taco's combination of al pastor and sirloin pits the two against one another in larger corn tortillas — an excuse to add both the green and the smoky-yet-acidic red salsas. Figuring that the sirloin deserved a chance to shine solo, I also ordered a torta de sirloin to take out.
So much for good intentions. When I got home, the torta filling turned out instead to be finely chopped chuleta, or porkchop. It was a perfectly fine sandwich but nothing I'd drive across town for again. Whatever the meat, you'll get a soft bun, a smear of refried beans, a modest amount of mayo and white cheese, slices of avocado, possibly some pineapple and a container of salsa cremosa. The latter proved lethally hot, but it supplied the soul that bound everything together.
The minced porkchop, which I had also ordered in alambre form, doesn't get the trompo treatment. Chuleta alambre arrives looking like a hot mess of mini corn tortillas on and under a well-oiled mound that includes pork and bacon, grilled onion, cheese, blistered poblanos and tomatoes and is served with lime wedges.
Although the restaurant thoughtfully threw in a plastic spork, you're still advised to grab a handful of napkins on your way to a table outdoors. DIY taco assembly is required. Here, too, use both red and green salsas with abandon. They helped turn a chaotic pile into a sybaritic feast, messy but frankly fun. The charred poblanos almost outshone the starring protein.
"Sharing a taco is the most Mexican thing you can do," Taco Chronicles notes as it sums up its San Antonio segment — a worthy sentiment for all of us. I'd be willing to share anything I tried on the menu at El Pastor Es Mi Señor, except for the al pastor tacos. Those I want all to myself.
El Pastor Es Mi Señor
8727 Wurzbach Road | (210) 479-3474 | elpastoresmisenor.com
4-9 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday and 3-10 p.m. Friday-Saturday
Prices: $2-$18
Best Bets: Tacos al pastor, campechano tacos, chuleta alambre
The skinny: El Pastor Es Mi Señor offers San Antonio its take on the popular tacos al pastor that can be found on nearly every other street corner in the Mexican capital. And its take is spectacularly good. The trompo-sliced pork is crusty, succulent and robustly flavored. You also may want to check out the campechano taco — a mix of both al pastor and sirloin — and the chuleta alambre, but you're excused if you want to stick to the spot's masterfully delivered specialty. Beer is available as a classic accompaniment.
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