So it's late at night, you've been drinking in a town that never stops pouring. In the final round, you decide to take on some local culture at a nearby dive bar where you realize that the $4.99 breakfast buffet really doesn't hold up it's own. Stomach grumbling, you find yourself stumbling around in a "not-so-good" neighborhood searching for something to curb the battle going on inside your empty insides. The bartender pointed you in the direction down Twain Ave where, like a beacon of salvation, your quest for greasy food is at an end.
Victor's Taco Shop is about as "authentic" as you get. Upon entry, you're blasted with warm air. The temperature in this place is even hotter than it is outside! That explains the extremely sweaty cooks behind the counter who are all but unaware of your arrival. The sound of Mariachi music is blaring from behind the counter and your only relief from the sweltering heat is a power fan blowing in the direction towards the counter itself.
You order a plate of 5 Rolled Tacos with everything on it and the counter cook looks at you like you're speaking a foreign language. He repeats the order, but shorter and asking (in broken English) how many you want. You tell him that you want 5 Rolled Tacos, he looks at you again like he doesn't understand. He asks if you want 5 orders of rolled tacos. You correct him and say you only want 5 of them. He responds with a completely off base response asking if you want an Number 5.
Again you correct him, now pointing to the picture on the menu with the 5 Rolled Tacos. He gets it now and you clarify that you wanted the sour cream and guacamole on it as well. The cook confirms and they get to work on your order. After what seems like an eternity standing there waiting for your order you contemplate playing one of the video games sitting along the wall. The screen is faded and you decide to pass.
Meanwhile, a young Hispanic man enters the Taco Shop. His pupils are heavily dilated and he's giving off nervous energy. He places his order in Spanish, pays for the meal, and moments later. The burrito is in his hands and he's out the door. You notice that your rolled tacos are sitting on the ledge under the heat lamps.
The counter cook notices that you noticed as well and hands them to you with a malicious smile. He got one on the gringo. Realizing that you don't have anything to wash the tacos down with, you purchase a bottle of Coca-Cola for $2.25. Peeling back the aluminum foil on your rolled tacos, you are greeted by the food slapped together poorly. The guacamole and sour cream are runny. Defeated, hungry, and now your buzz is gone you finish your rolled tacos. You exit the restaurant only to realize that there's a Roberto's in the same strip mall.
My $.02 Cents:
2 Stars - Poor food quality, hot and gross dining facility, poor service. My suggestion is to head to Roberto's right behind them. You get more for you money and don't need to speak Spanish to get good service.