This post can only start with one statement. I love taquerias. Yes, I know love is a strong word. This is love. This is not what you feel when you sit in the back row of Ec 5 and stare at the girl playing on her iPhone. This is not what happens when you go on a couple of dates and start sending each other flirty texts. I am in a passionate affair with the glorious, semi-authentic creations of these unassuming holes in the wall. This is some Casablanca-esque, earth-shattering, re-imagine your whole existence business. I speak strongly because I care. I care oh, so much.
With that on the table, I have a bone to pick with Tufts students, Cambridge residents and that dude who runs Boston Tweet. Anna's is not as good as you all think. Now, before you get out your Pitchforks and give me a 0.0, allow me to qualify this statement. I will go to Anna's. Hell, I'd say that I really like Anna's. BUT, everyone who insists that Anna's is the Michael Jordan of speedy taquerias can get their idol worshipping jig out of my face. The portions are admirable, the chicken tastes just like the carnitas and they will put a fresh avocado in your burrito for the price of your first born child. If we're talking real quality this side of the river, though, I'm all about Boca Grande. This has incurred about as much hatred from my friends and acquaintances as if I'd personally put tacks in all their breakfast cereal. Alas, I live on to make this impassioned argument.
The first redeeming factor about Boca is their meat variety. Rather than that one dry chicken flavor (don't even mention that chicken ranchero crap, I'm doing a favor by leaving that out) that Anna's leaves in a sauna for 4 hours prior to selling, Boca has multiple delicious varieties of chicken. If I'm feeling like pineapple chicken, boom. Maybe I'm craving lemon chicken in my burrito. The number of choices is allows me to fit my experience to my preference much like old folks can choose their retirement home in the Florida city that gives that wonderful restaurant its name.
The tamale though, is Boca's masterpiece. Those torpedos of deliciousness are something that probably keeps the owners of Anna's up at night crying and shaking. At the conclusion of his hunger strike opposing British colonialism in India, Gandhi demanded 8 chicken tamales from Boca to bring him back to full strength. Rumor has it he was deadlifting 250 that afternoon. Discovering the tamales at Boca after years of microwaving the Trader Joe's version was a revelation. It's like I had been blind, then starting seeing in black and white when I had those Trader Joe's packs. Finally, my miraculous recovery concluded with my first Boca Grande tamale and now I see in color. Being a medical miracle is sweet.
There are plenty of arguments against Boca. It's not in Davis Square. It's a little more expensive. It takes a couple of minutes to heat up the tamales. I say boo-hoo to all of these. My love for this place is never ending. I've had to be physically restrained from standing outside the shop with a boombox playing Peter Gabriel while I wait for it to open in the morning. Now that I think about it if I haven't convinced you to try it, I honestly don't care. I pen these words in the spirit of Phillip Sidney when he wrote Astrophil and Stella. My representation of this glorious yet tortured love affair is an affirmation to myself that I fully understand its meaning. Ye old reader can emulate my action and live by this scripture, but you will never feel what I feel for burritos and tamales from Boca Grande. Suckers.
Well played, Gene. I too share your healthy skepticism of Anna's as the be all and end all of burrito establishments. If anyone finds themselves in the New York City area, I challenge you to go to a little place called Dos Torros and tell me it's not just as good as Anna's. Plus, you can get beer there so that's a pretty good tiebreaker.
ReplyDeleteYou both can and should suck a dick.
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