La Taquizza could be the best Mexican restaurant in Canada.
I say “could be” because my sample size includes Taco Bell, Taco Time, Taco Delmar, and a place in Prince George better than the others I mentioned (despite the bar being set pretty low). But I dare any place to be better.
Full disclosure, I was in Toronto for a tech symposium. Two hundred of us rode in antique school busses like refugees from Kosovo, eventually finding ourselves near Vaughn Mills. The organizers found it appropriate to pile us into a bowling alley and hand us alcohol. It had a buffet, but after perusing its depressing selection, I found every excuse to leave and locate an alternative. After only a few minutes, I found this jewel, and despite finding other I`m sure worthwhile alternatives, I couldn’t keep that one out of my head…more because of a misunderstanding I had with the name.
You see, the full name on the sign read, “La Taquizza – Mexican Flavour at its Best”. Here`s the thing: the name “La Taquizza” is obscured within a funky logo which, from fifty feet away, resembles oddly enough laundry, and the words ``at its Best`` are not only in a different, smaller font, they’re blocked behind pillars built with the intent of mimicking a more ethnic fascia. The result, I thought the actual name of the restaurant was “Mexican Flavour”.
…there`s nothing I can add that will make that sound funnier.
“Well, when you’re in the mood for flavour, it better be Mexican.”
You see, I added eleven words to that joke and it still didn`t get any funnier. No matter what other options I had, nothing had a leg up on “Mexican Flavour” (I even use air quotes when saying that aloud), even that Chinese place called Szechuan Szechuan—the place so obviously mediocre, they named its boring cuisine twice. Every time I say “Mexican Flavor”, I want to put a flourish on it, like waving my hand slowly across the sky like a marque. Try it, “Mexican…Flavour.”
But it’s called La Taquizza, so let`s move on.
This restaurant is gorgeous. It’s not what a Mexican restaurant looks like in Mexico. It’s not what a Mexican restaurant looks like in Southern California. It’s what a Mexican restaurant looks like in a Fast and the Furious film. I kept expecting Toretto and a Paul Walker body double to walk in (oh, I made myself feel bad). I can`t help but tap my feet to the new age Latino music drumming from the speakers. The cute waitress made a point to “warn” me about the cuisine, claiming that La Taquizza was owned by a Mexican family and as such, offers more authentic cuisine, and that I should read the entries in full so I know what I’m getting into.
It was like a salesman warning me about buying a Ferrari because they have a tendency of getting their driver’s laid—that’s how awesome this conversation was. She had no idea how much I fell in love with this place based on what she said. And I have never been more swept up in a menu either. The dishes were all described in exquisite detail. I was getting hungrier each page I turned. My stomach was going crazy and I was about five minutes from just ingesting the menu. Untranslated Mexican names loomed over color descriptions embellished with words of tradition and historical origins. I’d order the entire damned menu if I could. Eventually I settled into sopes de chorizo (“little cravings served with refried beans, our home made chorizo, fresh cheese and onions”) and tacos de chilorio (“slow-roasted pork marinated with onion and chili sauce”). If I was to make one suggestion before returning to the acclaim, it would be to offer half portions. Everything on this menu appears designed for sharing. There were three tortillas and three tacos, and if there were three of me, we would’ve ordered three more. If there were half orders (two or even one per serving), I’d have kept ordering and maybe even topped the whole thing with a dessert. It could be the closest thing to Mexican tapas (hey, there’s an idea!). Alas, despite it being, as said, the best Mexican food I’ve had in my short life, I couldn’t handle more than two dishes. That, along with the sangria I ordered, came to a reasonable $30 with tip. I wanted to fit in the tres leches cake. The waitress actually said, “Cake of 3 milks,” but I knew what she was talking about. I even tried to go for a walk and squeeze in some room, maybe visit the bathroom for a bowel movement—maybe that would help. No luck. If I could, I would have gone back the next day just for the cake. They didn’t offer a half-order for that either. I asked.
I returned to the bowling alley and quietly gloated over the empty buffet platters that once held dried hot wings and flat pizza. Then I found the complimentary ice cream…so I had three scoops.
I’m sorry! I’m weak!!
Food: 4/5
Service: 4/5
Presentation: 3/5
Value: 5/5
Recommendation: 4/5
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