Houston Food Blog

The Laredo Taqueria location on Cavalcade is the subject of this week's Café review. Here are some photos of our last breakfast outing there.

​These four tacos are stuffed with calabacitas con puerco, huevos con chorizo, huevos con nopales and barbacoa. They cost $2 each.

Photos by J.C. Reid

Oaxaca Meat Market

FM 517 in Dickinson, Texas is an unremarkable stretch of country road that's the main gateway to San Leon, Texas, and the legendary Gilhooley's Oyster Bar. Oysters lovers from around the world have made the pilgrimage down FM 517 to the little oyster shack on Galveston Bay.

But nearby, other culinary delights await. Lining the route are barbecue and seafood joints, along with small restaurants that reflect the changing demographics of the area. Evidence of the influx of Hispanic residents is everywhere, with one of the best examples being the Oaxaca Meat Market in Dickinson.

Sitting side-by-side with Ronnie's Hog Heaven Ice House ("Boobies make me smile!") in a gritty strip center at the intersection of FM 517 and Dickinson Avenue, Oaxaca is a deli, meat market and convenience store featuring products from its namesake Oaxaca region of Mexico.

What exactly is a hamburguesa estilo Monterrey? I visited the Hamburguesas Del Rio location at Avenida Constitucion 1121 Pte. Centro in Monterrey, Mexico to seek the definitive answer to that question. I had long assumed that the term described a specific Mexican-style set of garnishes, namely the shredded lettuce, chopped onion, sliced tomato, hamburger patty, slice of ham and avocado architecture seen in the photo.

But I was wrong. A couple of bites revealed that there was something altogether different about the hamburger patty itself. So I asked the man with the spatula, the intrepid hamburguesero, what went into the meat mix. Migas (bread crumbs), huevos (eggs), and garlic salt were among the ingredients he listed. I have since found recipes online that include those items as well as salsa Ingles (Worcestershire), soy sauce, and other seasonings.

Chicharron de barriga tastes like crispy fried bacon

Searching for a late night snack after a night out, I found myself at La Michoacana Meat Market # 10 at Gessner near the West Park Toll Road. Unfortunately, the kitchen was closing up when I walked in, so I couldn’t get a taco. I wandered over to the meat counter in the back of the store to see what they had ready to eat. There were a lot of chicharrones, but not much else.

As I have complained here before, I love the bacon-like chicharrones you get in the carnicerias of Monterrey, Mexico, but I hate the crumbly fat puffs that pass for chicharrones around here. I was about to give up and go get some fried chicken, when I noticed the bin that said “chicharron de barriga.” It looked a lot meatier than the other kind, so I asked for a tiny sample. It turned out to be a meaty, bacon-flavored fried pork strip of exactly the kind I’ve been looking for.

Matamoros Meat Market No. 4 on Washington Ave. was once my favorite carniceria. It was simply a meat market that sold tacos, and it was part of the inspiration for this series.

The first time I lined up to buy tacos there seven years ago (“The Authenticity Myth,” October 26, 2000), I wrote: “At Matamoros Meat Market No. 4 on Washington Avenue, I stand before a glass case filled with glistening pieces of roasted buche (pork stomach), deep-fried chicharrones (crunchy fat) and several choices of stewed meats in long trays.”

When I went back six years later, the meat case had been removed. Now there was a taqueria with stainless-steel counters and stools where the butcher shop used to be. In an article about the gentrification of Washington Ave., (“Where Carnitas Meet Foie Gras,” March 16, 2006) I compared the $4 fajita plate at the newly revamped Matamoros Meat Market No. 4 with the $18 fajita plate at El Tiempo, the expansive new Tex-Mex eatery that had recently opened next door.

ST. LAWRENCE MARKET, TORONTO -- “You must be from the States,” the butcher at the St. Lawrence Market said as I took his picture carrying a huge hindquarter of beef into his meat market. “You guys don’t get to see real meat anymore, hey?”

He was right. In Houston, meat comes in little plastic packages, even in the Mexican carnicerias. It was shocking to see big primal cuts of beef hanging in a meat locker.

Texas may be a cattle ranching state, but when was the last time you saw a side of beef? When was the last time you saw a real butcher shop?

Houston carniceria paintings are an emerging folk art form. Here are a few of my favorites:

Meanwhile, back in Guanajuato...

BROWNSVILLE, Nov. 24 – The sign out front of Vera’s Backyard B-B-Q in Brownsville advertises barbacoa en el pozo con lena de mesquite (barbacoa pit-smoked with mesquite wood). This morning, I picked up a half a pound of cheek meat for five bucks.

The moist, tender barbacoa meat at Vera’s is a little drier that the steamed stuff you usually get at the carniceria. It has a sharp mesquite wood aroma and a distinctive smoked meat flavor. It is by far the best barbacoa I have ever eaten and maybe the only barbacoa that truly deserves the name.

The $1.25 breakfast tacos from Michoacana # 3 on Wilcrest hit the spot on a recent Saturday morning. I like the huevos con chorizo with a heavy hit of the housemade red salsa. Huevos with ham and huevos with potatoes are the other egg tacos – they all come on your choice of homemade flour or corn tortillas. I rounded out my morning meal with a coffee for 75 cents and a giant cantaloupe agua fresca for $1.75.

The breakfast tacos are served from 7 a.m. to 9 a.m. only, but best get there early. The eggs get dried out sitting on the steam table. If that’s too early for you, no problem. Nopalitos, carnitas and barbacoa tacos are the same price; fajitas and other beef tacos are slightly higher.

A fellow Carnicería Connoisseur sent me this e-mail on November 16:

Robb,

Any recommendations for a good one (carniceria) to try in SW Houston? I am a teacher and have a two year old, so I don't have as much time to try as many new places (alone) like I used to.

Howard L. Rushing

Howard,

You’re in luck. Southwest Houston probably has more good carnicerias than any other part of town. At the intersection of Bissonnet and Wilcrest, just outside Beltway 8, you’ll find Celaya #4 and Carniceria Villagran within a few blocks of each other.

I had breakfast at Celaya #4 yesterday. There weren’t any eggs on the steam table, but the lady behind the counter was happy to cook some up fresh. We got three potato and egg and three chorizo and egg tacos which we doused with a green chile sauce. We also got two chile rellenos, one stuffed with cheese and one stuffed with ground beef picadillo.

According to the sign out front, Mi Tienda is HEB’s version of a “carniceria.” And at 63,000 feet, it’s a pretty impressive effort. After a tour of the place, I sampled the $5 torta Cubana.

This awesome sandwich starts with a fresh bolillo, spread with refried beans on the bottom half. The beans are topped with a beef milenesa patty (which looks a lot like a small chicken-fried steak). Then comes a slice of pork, a slice of ham, cheese, lettuce, tomato and guacamole, with sour cream and mayo spread on the top half of the roll. Add some jalapeños and a lemon squeeze or two and you’re all set.

I like the mollejas (sweetbreads) and carnitas tacos, but it’s hard to go wrong at Gerardo’s. The place started out as a grocery store, but slowly evolved into a carniceria, taqueria and take-out counter. It’s one of those old-fashioned Mexican meat markets that only sells carnitas and barbacoa on the weekend.

Carniceria is the Spanish word for butcher shop or meat market. Most Houston carnicerias still sell raw meat. But they are best known for Mexican meat specialties that are already cooked.

The Mexican tradition of buying cooked meat at the carniceria is partly a matter of convenience and partly because it’s a big job to prepare carnitas, barbacoa and chicharrones, and it’d be impractical to do so at home.

Here’s a quick guide to some of the things you might want to try in Houston carnicerias:

The barbacoa at Tierra Caliente Meat Market & Taqueria was excellent the last time I dropped by for a couple of tacos. They were quite a deal at $1.29 apiece. I also got some tangy marinated pork and mozzarella in a pair of quesadillas al pastor, also a bargain at $1.89 each. For dessert, I picked up a couple of the pecan and caramel candies called Glorias, which ran me 89 cents.

Most of the other folks eating there were Spanish-speaking workers on their lunch break. The millions of Latino laborers who roof our houses, build our highways, and do our landscape work eat a lot of tacos, tortas, hamburgesas and quesadillas every day. And, for a variety of reasons, they don’t like to sit down for lunch in restaurants. The profits to be made feeding this army have inspired every gas station and convenience store in Texas to call itself a taqueria.

MONTERREY – It’s Saturday afternoon and there is a big crowd at the counter of Carnes Ramos, a gleaming meat emporium in the wealthy suburb of San Pedro Garza Garcia in Monterrey, Mexico. One of the butchers reaches across the counter and hands me a free sample of the hot chicharrones that are constantly coming out of the fryer. I never liked the crumbly chicharrones you get at carniceras in Houston much, but I love the ones in Monterrey, They taste like thick chunks of freshly fried bacon.

A woman who is offering free samples of bottled salsa from a card table near the door encourages me to slather some of her hot sauce on the sizzling pork. As I savor the combination of hot greasy bacon and tart spicy chile sauce, I am thinking I have died and gone to heaven.

The walls at Carnes Ramos are covered with meat porno, beauty shots of sexy meat cuts. The butcher shop sells beef, lamb, pork, cabrito and a huge assortment of marinated meats, as well as charcoal, barbecue sauces, dozens of salsas, fresh tortillas, refried beans in a jar and even a some fresh baked desserts. It’s one stop shopping for backyard barbacoa buffs. Shoppers take home the hot carnitas and chicharonnes to eat for lunch.

I ask for a half a pound of chicharonnes and half a pound of carnitas. The butcher says I better try the costillas--baby back ribs that are fried in lard like carnitas until they are falling apart tender. I end up buying some of those too.