“You’ve taken your first step into a larger world.” –Obi-Wan Kenobi

When I was fifteen years old, my world was bound by four California freeways, and two things in life were certain: Star Wars was infallible, and a taco was a pastiche of ground beef products dolloped into a tip of the lettuce iceberg and wrapped in a shell of stiff cardboard. I don’t necessarily feel shamed by the fact that I accumulated fifteen ticket stubs to The Phantom Menace and had a habit of eating just as many thirty-nine cent fast food tacos in one sitting; however, with each step away from the isolation of a perfect teenhood, I’ve felt the impact of Old Ben’s words, ringing like a million voices suddenly crying out in terror and then being suddenly silenced, more times than I can count.

This is what I remembered when I stepped through the front door of Carnitas Los Reyes, a strip mall taqueria in the city of Orange. I stumbled into the no-nonsense, non-air conditioned dining area the same way I stumbled years ago into El Castillito during my first venture into San Francisco’s Mission district, greeted by the marginally apathetic faces of Mexican-American families and the familiar buzz of a Latin soap opera on the television mounted in the corner.

What had brought me here was the promise of authentic one dollar tacos. Back home after five years of scholarship and adventure, I was seeking reflections of the bright center to the universe I’d left behind. At Carnitas Los Reyes, I found a plate of tacos rivaling the best I’ve had in LA or Oakland, each one a work of culinary minimalism packed into maximal form. Indeed, the one thing more impressive than the unwarranted size of these tacos is the purity of flavor folded neatly into each one.

The carnitas, well roasted but not thrown into the cure-all embrace of the frying pan, strike a careful balance of texture no less tender for the taking. The pastor diverges from the spicy-sweet path of its Angeleno brother, assuming a gritty, almost smoky idiom reminiscent of its porcine cousins in the South. The secret weapon of Los Reyes, however, is their chorizo, a finely chopped blend of sausage, spice and untarnished grease that soars over the taste buds like the taste of freedom breaking through the US-Mexico barrier to show Americans the true meaning of the words, “make a run for the border.”

Just as fulfilling are Los Reyes’ tortas: $3.50 earns a sandwich beautifully apportioned with meat, beans, tomato, lettuce, onions, and cheese. Taking into account the free jalapeños escabeche, tortilla chips and blistering fresh salsa brought to the table with every plate, this has become my favorite meal in Orange County.

Every so often, when I walk through the front door of Los Reyes, there isn’t enough time left on the clock to dine in. I take my torta to the Valero next door, sit on the curb, listen to the tortilla chips grinding in the back of my mouth, and stare into the Outer Rim. I may as well be in high school, sitting in the parking lot of the local AM/PM, knowing there’s a destiny out there to be fulfilled but having no idea just how far that adventure could extend.

It’s then that I realize that my own journeys across the galaxy haven’t brought me to any bright center of the universe. Rather, they’ve made the power of the Taco apparent in all of its paved recesses. Carnitas Los Reyes isn’t a reflection of taste radiating righteously into the dark corners of Orange County as much as a reminder of that which surrounds us and penetrates us, binding the galaxy together and wrapping it in a warm corn tortilla.

Carnitas Los Reyes
273 S. Tustin St.
Orange, CA 92866
714.744.9337

This entry was posted on Friday, November 9th, 2007 at 10:12 am and is filed under Orange County, Tacos.