Out & About #226 | La Carnita

Besides steamed baos, soft-shelled tacos - specifically those filled to the brim with fresh guac and battered fish - have also been the gustatory craze of late. And while I have few opinions on "authentic" Mexican cuisine, I feel decidedly strong about the quality of my tacos.

La Carnita's John Street location is all bricks-and-mortar, with little besides a black-and-white skull logo to distinguish its presence from the neighbouring buildings. At 11:30 AM, the two-floor restaurant is relatively empty, making it a good spot for casual conversation. Fast-forward some twenty minutes later, though, and the situation is entirely different: putrid noise pollution fills both floors.

I had the opportunity to feast at the Mexican street food eatery at a table of eight people. Reservations had been made in advance, and we were introduced to a corner spot on the upper level upon arrival, for reasons miles beyond my understanding. As mentioned previously, both floors were barren at the time, making the more spacious booths a much more practical seating area.

It was clear as day that 2x2 metre booth clearly did not have the capacity to seat the entire party comfortably, yet the sloppily-dressed, sweats-donning waitress had the decency to argue that it was more than enough, and that they were even able to seat larger parties of ten people at times.
Casting a quick but worried glance around the table, I could only blink in horror at the statement that had just been uttered. Either the guests she had been serving were all regularly underfed, or she was spouting cows' manure in the most matter-of-fact voice possible.

I heaved in anticipation at the inner tremors I would be experiencing during this visit. Even sitting at the edge of the booth, it became a challenge to suppress feelings of claustrophobia.

​They all appeared to be relatively standard dishes: the salad was overdressed and contained an excessive amount of cilantro (which is saying a lot since I happen to greatly enjoy the vegetable); the chips and dip weren't any more extraordinary than their more economically-priced storebought counterparts. The trio of Frituras bore an unmistakable resemblance to arancini, though I can't quite comment on anything beyond their appearance since I didn't try them.

Our group also ordered several alcoholic beverages to accompany the meal, though I preferred to try a refreshing Agua Fresca instead. The invigorating blend of watermelon and mint was a nice contrast to the heavy flavours of the food.

View the full album HERE !

< Pictured above and below: In Cod We Trust Taco, Tostada de Ceviche Taco, 8-Spice Duck Taco, Beef Cheek Taco, etc.​ >

In Cod We Trust, the most highly raved-about item on the menu, was supposedly a no-fail combination of lime, battered bod, and tangy green apple slaw. This was not the case in reality: flavours of lime were non-existent, the cod was a soggy, limp specimen, and the apple slaw ware barely pickled. There was no apparent cohesiveness between the individual components; it was a sad pile of immature ingredients laid upon a circular piece of tortilla.

On the other hand, Tostada de Ceviche proved to be a much more redeeming dish. Atop a crispy piece of tortilla, generous amounts of guacamole and tangy cured albacore tuna had been layered for maximum appeal. Its profile was unique, with elements that contrasted and complemented. Albeit tasty, it was quite messy to munch on. I also find myself questioning whether its price was justified.

(Side: Both of the above selections are normally served with a high degree of spice, but I made a special request to omit any flame-inducing additions.)

I decided to check out their washrooms mid-meal, and was surprised to see their condition. Within each individual stall was a boxy stainless steel sink, high-power hand dryer (that had already been subject to graffiti), and a  lengthy wooden countertop that featured the same "stitched mouth" design as their skull logo. Lighting was sufficient, and the floors were notably clean given the remainder the restaurant. I suppose the fact that nightfall hadn't hit was a predominant factor in guaranteeing cleanliness though.

To satisfy my curiosity, I decided to try one of their paletas for dessert. The four-dollar Spanish popsicles were swiftly delivered on a wooden serving board lined with a thin sheet of wax paper (or was it waxy parchment paper?).

I had debated between London Fog and Cookies 'n' Cream for some time. But my stomach was nearing capacity, and so I decided on the less creamy of the two: the dairy-free, "detox" London Fog.

It would have been a great choice for vegans, or even those looking for a distinctly different dose of iciness to conclude their meal. But I found myself to be rewarded with nothing more than an icy stick with hints of vanilla for my decision. It lacked the characteristically fruity-floral fragrance of Earl Grey, as well as the smooth milkiness usually associated with the addition of low-fat cream. Nonetheless, the paletas were an easy pick over Sweet Jesus' insanely sugary creations.

With the exceptions of the Tostada de Ceviche and Agua Fresca, La Carnita fell greatly below expectations. Service was atrocious as ever - was it because of the guaranteed tip amount? - and pretty much on par with Elephant & Castle. As chaotic as the dining environment came to be after noon, the experience would have significantly been better had all members of our party received adequate space to eat and breathe.

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