A great friend of mine, whom I haven’t seen in way too long, was in town from Oakland this week and we finally managed to link up last night at HOLY TACO in EAV for dinner, drinks, and tons of chatting. The conversation, as always, was highly engaging and kinda went like this: quick catch up / hand crafted bourbon / rebirth of the speakeasy and prohibition styled cocktails / people who ask for cocktails with names like “the Wet Pussy” / grow projects in the Bay Area aka Smokeland / coffee in the Bay Area / how you don’t need an expensive french press, just one that works / food that ought to be presented with an elaborate song ala that episode of the SIMPSONS in which Moe turns the bar into a family restaurant and serves fry baskets on his head / RED HOUSE PAINTERS / Mark Kozelek / MAD MEN / the spank machine / how creepy some women can be about breast feeding / Chicago / Zooey Deschanel / friends / families / the end. There was a whole lot in between, but you get the gist, and while the dialogue was the star of the night, it was very nearly upstaged by the food…. I’ve heard a lot about HOLY TACO’S PORK BELLY TORTA and finally decided to give it a ride.
Upon the PORK BELLY TORTA’S arrival two things hit me: 1.) this is most definitely what it smells like in heaven and 2.) it’s too hot to eat. Now that I think about it, I honestly can’t remember having food served to me in a restaurant that must cool down quite that much before eating. This was not a bad thing though, no, there’s something really nostalgic and comforting about it, maybe a relic from mom-cooked meals of past and the cautionary words they were served with. Regardless, the wait it necessitated also built anticipation… and when something smells as good as that torta did, it better damn well live up to the billing.
Long story short, that sandwich is not only one of the best things served in our fair city, it may be one of the best things I’ve ever tasted period. Crispy, fatty, smoky, house cured Berkshire pork belly served piping hot with pickled jalapeños, lettuce, onions, tomato, mayo, lime, and in a stroke of pure brilliance, radish, all on a soft ciabbatta roll. I can’t quite explain the rush of the first bite, but I’d say it’s pretty much the sensory equivalent to piloting a jet fighter or killing a bear. This is the kind of food that makes me pity my vegetarian friends. And somewhere last night, right around the time of my second bite, ANTHONY BOURDAIN stopped dead in his tracks and slowly looked around.
The torta is obviously way too decadent for regular consumption, and my heart needs a few weeks before my next one, but you can be sure I’ll be back to attack this thing again. HOLY TACO? More like HOLY PORK BELLY TORTA.
In searching for a picture online I found the one above taken by DEBORAH WHITLAW LLEWELLYN for the ATLANTA’S KITCHENS: RECIPES FROM ATLANTA’S BEST KITCHENS cookbook that features HOLY TACO and this torta. Please go to the restaurant for the real deal, and then get a copy of the cookbook so you can destroy you and your friends’ waistline at home!
