[Overheard at the bar at Duck's Eatery @SPiN — while contemplating my own Korean tacos, which are built of tender, braised short ribs, housemade oyster kimchi and piled high with crunchy bean sprouts and fresh cilantro.]
Q: Damn, these tacos are good.
A: Yes.
Q: So at what point should one be concerned when one encounters a taco that results in meaty, taco-y, drips-running-down-chin flavor?
A. My young taco apprentice, you have much yet to learn. It is best to accept your fate.
Q: And then?
A: Well, if you are experiencing this condition and suede boots are involved — it’s time to reposition your bar stance.
Q: And then?
A: Take a moment to collect ones thoughts with a sip of Sam Adams’ seasonal Nobel Pils. (Ed. note: which pairs beautifully with these tacos.) Take in the soundtrack: the pleasant “ping-pong, ping-pong” sound of the many balls volleying across tables, overlaid by the Pogues, the Velvet Underground, Nirvana, Radiohead. Your next bite will come to you when you are ready.
Q: I am beginning to understand. And how do I convey my appreciation?
A: My young taco apprentice, you may have heard of the expression, “licking the fingers.” This will appropriately convey your feelings.
Duck’s Eatery at SPiN, 48 E. 23rd St., at Park Avenue South, 212-980-1404. If you exit the Downtown-bound 6 Train at 23rd Street you can get a preview via a large, underground picture window.
It’s a matter of market demand: The average grocery store here (in Manhattan, at least) is more likely to stock great, locally-made pita or 
This is going to sound counter-intuitive, but the secret to a lovely, golden-crisped quesadilla, I was taught years and years ago, is to run the tortilla under a light stream of water just for a few seconds on each side, so the tortilla is damp. I don’t know the science of why this works, but it works. 
A quesadilla can really be a kitchen sink dish — leftover chicken, spinach, fresh vegetables, etc. You can really throw in anything so long as its diced small enough and there’s enough cheese to bind it all together. In addition to cheese, I added some diced onion and tomato, a light smear of beans and wilted spinach. On top, I finished it off with a dollop of plain yogurt (sour cream alternative that was already in the fridge) and an excess of simple guacamole, which goes something like this: 
This is how I remember Mexican food: The margaritas are strong but balanced, easy on the sweet and sour; the guacamole fresh and vibrant, with a heat that sneaks up on you; the carnitas tender, glistening and … [insert guttural noises] excellent.
When in doubt, just order the carnitas. And that’s exactly what I did at 
…I was stuck in an infinite loop of indecision. Do I order:
b.) The fish tacos. My friend was looking to share an order of her favorite tacos — Baja-style battered-and-fried tilapia fillets, topped off with a creamy sauce and some serious lettuce plumage (they were beautiful). Yes, we had all consumed our fair share of guac, fundido, and more guac, and cheesy asparagus (not to mention tequilla) — but would it be enough? I couldn’t commit.
What. I knew about the bus to LaGuardia Airport from Harlem, but subway to Queens, and then either cheap taxi ride or city bus transfer to LGA? What?! And it’s so easy. Just follow the signs from the subway marked with a yellow airplane symbol, in a yellow circle, to the bus boarding zone. (If I can justify the time, which is essentially the same as a cab or bus at rush hour, I’m never going back.)
And the rest, as they say, is history. A pair of carnitas tacos, plus a hongos quesadilla (I meant to order the huitlacoche), $6.50. Some of the plumpest carnitas tacos I’ve ever had, plus a quesadilla, the flour tortilla grilled crispy-golden, stuffed with cheese and savory marinated mushrooms that lit up the rows around me on my flight to Minneapolis … I didn’t make friends this trip, and I didn’t really care. My food was that good.
In fact, I never knew that the gordita wasn’t entirely a 
So, what does a $2 gordita consist of? As Las Poblanitas does it, a gordita begins with a lightly-fried pita pocket made out of corn masa — think, the softness of the masa part of a tamale, but pita-thin, with browned exterior, plus warm tortilla chip smell. The shell is then stuffed with chicken or pork, warmed, and further stuffed with some cojita cheese, lettuce, the diced onion, cilantro and tomato mix.
There was no way I was passing this by. I took home a cheese tamale for later (ordinarily she carries cheese and chicken, but the chicken had run out for the day), ended up forgetting about it, only to rediscover it this morning. Bingo, breakfast!
A tamale for breakfast is such a brilliant idea. Heartier than cereal, the faintly-sweet masa, cheese and — surprise inside — hot peppers trigger an entirely different set of tastebuds than the fruit, the eggs, the yogurts that make up the standard rotation.
There’s something good-familiar about them, these gringo, Tex-Mex style chicken tacos ($7). For starters: the chicken has been slow-cooked, Crock-Pot style (I’d wager) with a blend of spices not entirely unlike Lawry’s taco seasoning. Not spicy to taste, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that a residual heat builds up slowly. (The tacos would be killer with some pickled jalapenos.) Soft, cooked white onion bits are threaded through the chicken.
Today I tried the $6 chicken tostadas, a new lunch special written on a whiteboard that’s shown up outside the restaurant recently, some sort of addendum to the lunch specials posted on 
Three large tostada rounds (all tostadas start with what is basically a big, circular chip) emerged from the kitchen smeared with beans and topped with diced chicken, ready for the the receiving line treatment: shredded iceberg lettuce; diced tomatoes, onion, cilantro; pickled jalapenoes; cojita cheese. White sauce? Yes, please.
In my mind, one of the charms of Las Poblanitas is the no-frills decor, which includes the Corona ladies on the ceiling. It’s festive, in a basement-hangout sort of way. Cold beers in the fridge, decent Mexican food, Corona models beckoning: What more can one ask for from a hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint?
This was just an exploratory adventure — plus, it’s pretty impossible to do a serious tour of all the vendors in a single day — so we started with the basics: A variety of tacos from one of the simplest looking trucks in the row (top left), and a couple of agua frescas and a 
The tacos were beautiful: Chicken, goat and steak, folded into large corn tortillas, each topped with lettuce, tomato, onion, and your choice of a half-dozen homemade salsas that stood in buckets on a table adjacent to the truck. 
… might have ended there, as well. Now that I think about it. I also shared part of a friend’s taco plate, but surely didn’t eat enough to even say that we split it. Oh well, sometimes festivities get the best of you! 
