Image via Flickr user Nicole Lee.
Last night, inspired by a review by my former Stranger colleague David Schmader, a friend and I tried out the new Barracuda Taqueria in Belltown, rumored to be the producer of the only true Texas queso in town. (I trust Schmader on this because we bonded as the only two Texans in The Stranger's editorial department .) Queso, for the uninitiated, is melted cheese in a bowl, sometimes, but not always, enriched—nay, improved!—by the presence of ground beef, jalapenos, or a scoop of guacamole.
The queso was, as advertised, the real deal—gloopy Velveeta-based sauce sprinkled with red chile pepper and garnished with a fat slice of jalapeno—and the chips were greasy (in the good way), salty, and fresh.
I wasn't wild about most of the tacos—the shrimp taco was overcooked and needed a little more lime to balance the (excellent) chile coating, the al pastor was too finely textured, almost like school-lunchroom meat, and the chicken mole was oversweet and forgettable. The tongue taco was awesome, though, and that queso took me back to a thousand meals from my years in Austin and Houston.
After dinner, we headed over to the Showbox downtown to watch Tracy Morgan be Tracy Morgan. Although Morgan seemed a bit freaked out by the setup—a crowd of people standing around, rock-show-style, rather than in chairs—he pulled off a hilarious set, featuring jokes about race, sex, sex with women of different races, and, of course, poo.