“It’s worth the drive for those tamales.”
My thoughts exactly, dictated by another member of Team Taco on the thirty-minute drive back from Georgetown. We drove out to meet my parents at Taqueria Becerra (they told me when they would arrive in Lexington, a four hour drive for them, at two hours away the day of their travel).
We met in the church parking lot downtown, right outside of the taqueria. Mom got out of the car to greet me first. “Well, they certainly have an interesting color scheme. Have you been here before?”
I love my family.
There were only three tables taken at dinner time on this Thursday night, and all three were sitting latinos. A nice young lady wearing a Crank and Boom t-shirt addressed us smiling from behind the counter: “Sit wherever you like! I’ll be right there.”
My parents looked at me expectantly. “So,” my dad said. “What do we get here?”
I settled on two tacos (chorizo and carne asada, my two favorites) and a tamale. After downing two baskets of chips and salsa and catching up with the family, our food started to trickle out. It was all displayed simply. My parents almost took a bite as I said “Wait–we’re missing something.” They were puzzled. Everything we ordered was there. Just as they started to try to protest, our server came back with a plate of limes and another of cilantro and onion (the taco trinity). In typical Hudson tradition, everyone’s plates rotated: my mother’s gordita was too cheesy for me (and I still don’t really know how to eat them); my dad got pork rind tacos that he loved and that I simply did not. It’s redeeming quality lay in the tortilla (these are made by our server’s mother every morning. I prefer these to the tortillas from Ramirez, even. They’re so good.)
The winner, decided by all, was the tamale. I opened up the corn husk, the steam revealing an orange mass riddled with flecks of spices and pulled pork. It was equal parts spicy and savory, but not overpowering. I did the math in my head: if I babysat for one hour, I could afford ten tamales from the taqueria here in Georgetown. I was transported. More than any other place, more than any other food, I loved this nearly-empty Georgetown dig tamale.
My family left happy (for four people, it only cost about $20), and decided as we parted ways that they should next time bring their friends. That’s the cool thing about all the places Taco Literacty takes you: when you go, you go not only once, but again in the future, multiplied by all the people who came, too.