Slices of reflective, maroon-colored pork resting in greasy tortillas are a beautiful sight streaked. Even if I could do without the greasy tortillas underneath the meat. But that’s what you get at a Fito’s Tacos de Trompo, including #3, a walk-up taqueria next to a gas station on Northwest Highway, up the road from La Nueva Fresh & Hot Tortilleria.
While Fito’s #3 can’t compete with La Nueva—and its tortillas can be wrung out to fill a deep fryer—the trompo is stellar. The achiote bit back with mild chile. I had only one other type of taco available to me, bistec. The taquero behind the window counter said they were out of barbacoa, lengua campechanas, piratas, an array of potentially exquisite styles. As for the bistec…
It was standard bistec: small gnarled bits of overly chewy beef. To rectify the situation, I ordered several more delectable tacos de trompo. All was right with the world.
I’d put Fito’s’ specialty right up there with Mi Tierrita’s trompo, but what is really so remarkable about this taquería is what Fito’s #3 represents: the significance of sharing. I learned about it from a friend, dallasfoodorg on Twitter, who remembered how l liked Fito’s #2. You see, tacos are for sharing. They are nosh for the masses. And there is so much joy in sharing tacos. To sit across a table, to bump elbows on a curb, to spill the sweet fire of a salsa verde on a car bumper with fellow taco lovers is an opportunity I take whenever I can. I did so at Fito’s #3. There, my friends Carol and David, as well as a friend of Carol grumbled about the greasy tortillas and laughed about the salsa packet I accidentally exploded over a basket of tacos. I hope we can repeat such an experience, an experience I have shared with many of you, including dallasfoodorg and the TacOCliff bloggers. They realize we aren’t a threat to each other. No one gains from selfishness. We all benefit from sharing, especially while eating tacos.Fito’s #3 Tacos de Trompo 9757A Webb Chapel Road