Mexican Bliss in Little Italy
There is one thing you need to know about me, above all else: I love Italian food. And when I say love, I mean I could eat it day and night for the rest of my life and be perfectly happy. Which is why I continued the search for Little Italy and Mulberry Street, well after I had walked 70 blocks in the wrong direction, on a melt-your-face kind of day in July 2011.
After three hours of walking, and a growing amount of hunger pains rumbling louder and louder, I saw the glorious signs welcoming me to what I assuredly knew must be a magical neighborhood. I licked my lips and made my way to certain bliss, ignoring all those that attempted to steal my attention.
I walked in circles, only seeing pricey boutiques and jewelry shops. Something was clearly not right, but without a smart phone, all I could do was ask other tourists for help. I felt like I was on the edge of greatness, if only I could find the damn street.
I walked past a garage-like opening for the fourth time, the smells once again enticing me to enter. Not being particularly fond of Mexican food, I had held out for a steaming plate of calm linguine. This time, however, I acquiesced to my stomach’s pleas and took a seat next to a colorful, vintage VW bus parked inside.
I anxiously approached the bus to order, telling the cook to make me his favorite on the menu. A Yucatan styled pork with red cabbage slaw and topped with a green sauce was placed in front of me, looking like no taco I had ever seen before. The first bite hit me with the realization that Mexican cuisine was in fact not ground beef in a Fritos bag, or melted cheddar cheese over lettuce and bland shredded chicken. My ignorance left me ashamed, but hungry for more. It made me want to consume everything about this culture, and it’s food, and question how my community had made me so small minded.
The flavors were coming alive in my mouth, rich and smoky. The second taco came out with cubes of grilled pineapple and caramelized onions, and the most delicious, perfectly fried fish I had experienced. The spice tickled my lips, making me guzzle down my watermelon agua fresca, sweet like juice and I could almost taste a bit of mango or papaya.
The liquid easily calmed the small fire erupting on my taste buds. As the sun went down the servers turned on string lights above me while a movie projected against their wall, making me fall in love with the restaurant even more. What I found that day was better than any pasta dish they could have put in front of me.
Tacombi, which opened in January 2011, brought me to the beaches of Mexico and soaring through the country as soon as I took my first bite. The restaurant accepts cash only and works on a ticket system, each taco, which costs roughly $4, is a ticket. You can go to the bus or the traditional grill to order, each station has a different menu.
Overall, Tacombi was a cute place with amazing food and fair prices. If you’re really hungry I would get two taco tickets, they fill you up faster than you would think. The servers were very helpful and engaging. They’re willing to sit and tell you a story or two, if not too busy. I’m already planning on bringing my friends from work down for lunch next Friday because once you find something that amazing it’s just not fair to keep it to yourself.
Location: 627 Elizabeth Street Hours: 8 a.m. – 2 a.m.
Price: $8-12
Why Should I Eat Here: It’s the best Mexican food around and offers a uniquely Mom and Pop feel that most NYC restaurants are missing.