Fooding Around

The Tuba Guys have come and gone, and there is that hollow "after the dance" feeling about the place. They came, they chowed on Tex-Mex, Frito Pie and pulled pork, also snow cones, State Fair ice cream, Kellogg's cereal packs and miles of soda. The weather must have been beautiful in Dallas; they all had red necks from the Texas-OU game.

Meanwhile up in Manhattan, my NYU frosh thought we should check out Mexicana Mama Centro in Greenwich Village. Our first surprise came with the salsa, which looked like queso to these Texas women and therefore, a kitchen slip-up. Our mistake, as it turned out. The dish was not melted Kraft but a smooth sauce that took its color from habanero peppers, the king of heavyweight on the pepper scale. It was spiky and flavorful, hot but not burning, and passed the real test - worth carrying back to the dorm. My burrito, expertly chopped into small portions that looked like spring rolls, was also a pleasure. My daughter dispatched the queso flameado - melted cheese covered with chorizo and held her thumb toward heaven for the fresh pico de gallo, better than many we've had in Dallas. This is a cash-only place, and visiting moms do like to use the credit card as much as possible, saving the dinero for street fare like fresh fruit crepes and emergency cab rides in a nor'easter, but we managed the cash flow. This was one of those times when I just wanted to sit and savor the moment with my girl, not get into judging the food, service and ambience, so I didn't do the Ruth Reichl due diligence and focus too much on how everything worked. I just lived and listened.

Speaking of Ms. Reichl, her former home base New York Times had a nice interview with her in the Sunday magazine. Warm your coffee and take a moment to read it.

I'd like to tell you about the dinner at a certain scenic spot in Weston, Conn., for my high school reunion, but the report would not be sumptuous. If you can't say something nice, it's better to say nothing, and that's where I leave it (though the outside waterfall and the inside fireplace are still cozy attractions. The staff was very accommodating: They gave me a broom so I could sweep the floor before guests arrived. I don't mean this in a disparaging way, um, but the floor should be free of M&Ms, straw papers and Chex Mix before I enter a room.)

At the reunion I re-met Craig Jervis, a former classmate whose restaurant in Nashville The Mad Platter has me thinking about dropping in when I drive through on the way to Knoxville (for Homecoming at my alma mater, the University of Tennessee, where band director Gary Sousa is also from my home town in Weston, Conn. But I digress.) Craig and I talked about how he got his start in the eat, drink and be merry biz, something about his doing the meals for rock 'n roll bands including The Stones and Michael Jackson. He's devoted 20 years to The Mad Platter and the type of restaurant he wants it to be. I wish him well in his endeavors. Keep swinging, Craig. Let's learn how to throw pizza dough together.

All too soon it was back to Dallas, where I had a strong craving for Taco Joint. The two guys who run it, Austin transplant Corey McCauley and long-established Chuy’s Mexican restaurant alum Jeffrey Kowitz, offer Dallas’ best basic breakfast-and-lunch tacos and burritos (not open for dinner). These guys have that wonderful ability to serve good food at a reasonable price using outstanding customer service. Guy Fieri and the Food Network, are you hearing me? The tacos are money. Get Taco Joint on your map. It's not a diner, drive-in or dive, but it has all the elements of those places that give them their loyal customer base.

Pounding the streets of New York will take the stuffing right out of you, and the "State Fair" plate at Taco Joint is the stuff you need to get back in the game.