Outside, the snowflakes were falling like giant teardrops and kids were throwing the first snowballs of the season. Inside, the small TV in the corner was tuned to slapstick Mexican comedy, while the owner (and cook) delivered baskets of piping hot salted chips and a ruddy salsa to a steady parade of customers.
I was in the mood for menudo or pozole, but I didn't see either on the menu. So I ordered the next best thing: four soft corn tacos -- adobada, pastor, buche and shrimp -- misted with lime and slapped with cilantro and onions. They weren't the best tacos I've had, but they were damn good, and the salsa bar, stockpiled with a half dozen rojas and verdes, a mix of jalapenos, onions and carrots, plus rounds of pickled jalapenos and pico de gallo, was worth the pilgrimage east from downtown.
Name the joint.
