Cycle 15 - Item 179 2 (Tue) July 2024 Chicken Tacos Regular 3.5 at Apatazingan -Redwood City, California, USA- solo Summer Holiday in the San Francisco Bay Area (Day 7 of 11) Day 1 (15.173 Sauteed Pea Sprouts with Garlic) Day 2 (15.174 Whi…
In Redwood City. With the Family. Their first time ever in Northern California. The immediate objective is to escort DJ and three of his friends to compete in the finals of a global logic competition at Stanford University, while taking advantage of the opportunity to show the family my hometown, including San Francisco and Berkeley, and visit my best friend Hahn, who lives in Los Gatos, maybe even drop by my childhood home in Saratoga. The itinerary is packed, nearly every hour scheduled with activities. Stay tuned.
As suspected, success is in fact guaranteed - in the end, when we were stuck on the final clue, with 10 seconds on the clock, we were just given the answer.
To give IZ a bit of fun - he's been very patient, even though he's really had very little to do - we went to The Escape Game, which has a location in the mall. For our 3rd venture, we did Time Liner: Train Through Time. Loved it - my personal favorite of the three.
DINNER
Taqueria Apatzingan is a Mexican restaurant. Specializes in tacos, as well as other tortilla-based dishes, mostly Tex-Mexish in nature.
Located at 2391 Spring Street, about 320 m from the house.
Not a white person anywhere in sight - everyone appeared Mexican, or at least Latino.
Passing by twice a day, on the way from and to the house, I'd been looking forward to trying it out. So far off the beaten path, this was not a place for random passersby, but rather a specific destination for customers seeking it out. Perhaps not the best Mexican food in town (currently only 3.9 rating on Google) (by comparison, Mama Coco Cocina Mexican is 4.3), but looked totally authentic.
Everything was pre-made, like a cafeteria, and assembled to order.
The original dinner plan had been to eat at Redwood City BBQ, but everyone was tired, and we still had a lot of food in the fridge that we needed to eat before checking out tomorrow, so I made them a feast of hotdogs and ramen.
Later, I went out by myself and snuck in a solo dinner at Apatzingan.
It almost got me killed.
If I lived nearby, I would definitely attempt TEITA (Try Every Item at Taqueria Apatzingan).
After getting my order, I went to the adjacent dining area of the restaurant, which was mostly empty except for a table in the corner, next to a karaoke machine. A group of 5 men were seated there. One of them - slim, sorta handsome, dressed in a shimmering orange shirt and tight black trousers - was singing, and drinking beer. The others - beefy, not so handsome, dressed more casually in denim and work clothes - just sat, blank expressions, doing nothing. My immediate impression, racist though it may seem, was that the guy was some kind of gangster boss and the others were his crew.
I took a seat at the other side of the room and began to eat.
Home-made Mexican chili oil (chili crisp)!
Corona Familiar: same thing as Corona Extra; originally sold only in larger "family (familiar") sizes, hence the name.
Gratified to see Tapatío served at an actual Mexican joint, even though here it's somewhat unnecessary, given the amazing chili oil and awesome spicy salsa verde (see below).
Spicy salsa verde: creamy, tangy.
The tacos were excellent. Delectably soft and savory hand-made corn tortillas. Juicy and deliciously seasoned bits of chicken, balanced with fresh onions and cilantro. Topped with the kick of chili oil plus the zing of the sauce. I would've ordered another round, if not for my near-death experience.
As I was nearly done with my second taco, the boss guy finished his song and called out to me. He smiled, held out the mic, and said something in Spanish, presumably a polite offer for me to join him. I shook my head and mumbled, "No habla Español." He cocked his head, not smiling anymore, and said something again in Spanish, presumably a stronger suggestion this time. In that instant, I was of the notion that this man in the shimmering orange shirt was not the kind of person to accept a third refusal, so I downed the last bite of taco, pointed at my watch, stammered "Vamanos," got up and ran out - thereby averting death, or at least grave bodily harm, at the hands of a Mexican drug cartel.
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