I have eaten in a lot of Mexican restaurants in our decades of city-dwelling. As it turns out, I had to cross the Hudson and move 27 miles to the north to find the most delicious Mexican food I have ever tasted.It was not until eating at El Pastor, a small, unpretentious neighborhood restaurant in Rockland County's Haverstraw, that I realized I have never actually had authentic Mexican cuisine. I've had Tex-Mex and Cal-Mex, and a lot of it was very good. This restaurant blew every variant I've ever tasted out of the water.
There were six of us, and the owner-chef, Pepe, made us feel like honored guests immediately. I think this restaurant does a great deal of take-out, and not as much sit-down trade (as yet, that is - wait till the word gets out about this gem.) So he looked a little astonished at all these people who wanted to plunk down in seats and start ordering everything on the menu, but he rallied swiftly. Tables were quickly pushed together, and then the kitchen got busy showing us what it could do.
We started with the tacos - ten for $15, which was that night's special. I had the shrimp tacos, my friend Carrie had tongue (!) and the less adventurous teenagers stuck to beef, chicken and pork. These were small, appetizer-sized tacos, somewhat larger than a blini, but much smaller than the tacos I've come to expect. My Husband the Foodie, happily chugging down his tamarind soda with an, "Ahh - just right!", explained that these were the real thing - it's the Americanized tacos that are super-sized They were exquisite, with plenty of cilantro and a garnish of roasted spring onions and roast cactus. Has any other Mexican restaurant ever offered me roast cactus? Indeed, it has not - and it turned out that cactus is superb.
Carrie flatly refused to share any of her tongue tacos with the teens, who got curious after noting the look of ecstasy that crossed her face when she bit into one. She said they were much too good for anybody under twenty. The kids would have liked to argue, but they were too busy washing down their own tacos with swigs of imported Mexican Coca Cola - "See, Mom? It's like the Cokes we had when we were down there. Not too sweet."
Having eaten at El Pastor last month with my Husband the Foodie, I knew that the entree portions are gargantuan, so I contented myself with a quesadilla - light, beautifully toasted, and with perfectly melted queso blanco. The French fries were probably overkill, but they came with the dish, and who could resist? They had been dredged in lightly-seasoned flour and each one was a masterpiece of airy crispness.
Carrie, meanwhile, was defending her tilapia from the teenagers, who were making several half-hearted attempts at piracy but were soon so absorbed in crunching into their golden-brown flautas that they had no time for anybody else's plate. My Husband the Foodie had bravely ordered the platter of mixed grill - steak, pork, and I-don't-know-what-else, somehow thinking it would be a manageable portion after all those tacos - and was happily chowing down while explaining how you could tell that these black beans were house-made, not canned, and that this yellow rice was done right.
As if we needed more, our server (the owner's wife, perhaps? We didn't ask) floated over and, with a charming smile, deposited a complimentary basket of house-made corn tortillas on the table. Never have I tasted such tortillas. The edges of the tender little circlets were irregular, hinting at the artisanal nature of the treat, and the fresh corn flavor made me feel like I was standing in a Vermont cornfield. We started piling the food on top of the tortillas, and soon nobody could talk - all we could do was point to the food as we stuffed it into our mouths, bugging out our eyes to indicate how good it was.
Eventually, we gave in and begged for doggie bags, because there was Just. Too. Much. Food.
But Pepe was not through with us yet. We must, he insisted, have a bit of dessert - compliments of the house. We begged for mercy, but there was no mercy to be had. Very soon, we were finding that we did, after all, have a tiny bit of room for the greatest churros that I, or anyone else at the table, had ever tasted. Not too sweet, with the lightest possible dusting for cinnamon sugar, with a superbly moist interior crumb, and of a temperature that demanded to be consumed at once, before they lost their just-made crispy perfection.
The only caution I would extend, to those who would try the delights of El Pastor, is that this is not a fast food restaurant. Everything is freshly cooked to order, and you can see the kitchen staff whirling efficiently about the kitchen making your food, just for you. Perfection takes time. If you get grumpy because physical law requires that certain foods take a certain amount of time to cook to the pinnacle of tastiness... if you have a train you need to catch . . . if you are out with people you can't imagine actually talking to for twenty minutes between the last crumb of the appetizer and the arrival of the entree... then sitting down to dine at El Pastor is not for you. Call ahead, get the take-out, go home, and eat in front of the television.
We have a new favorite restaurant, and it is El Pastor.
El Pastor Restaurant
93 Broadway, Haverstraw, NY 10927
845-271-4671
Open 7 days a week from 11:00 a.m. - 12:00 a.m
http://www.elpastor93.com/contact-us/
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