El Puerco Lloron

Down the hill from the Market proper, on the Pike Street Hillclimb, El Puerco Lloron is a little gem you might easily miss. Look for the brass pig in front.

When we first walked in, I noticed the young Mexican woman behind the counter, pulling off a mass of dough from her pile of fresh masa, pressing them into the tortilla press, and flipping them on the griddle, methodically. “Hey, I did that yesterday!” I thought, then pointed out to my friends. Of course, hers were much more even.

It’s an unpretentious place, with wobbly tables and a breeze blowing through the windows. As someone had written in the newspaper review tacked up on the wall, it’s like a little cantina on a border town. Ten choices, all with warm corn tortillas.

I had the biscet de pollo, which was grilled chicken in a spicy red sauce, with fluffy rice and pinto beans. And a Jarritos lemon-lime soda. And I’m guessing that wheat flour has never touched the place. I was beaming with the good food, knowing I wasn’t going to get sick.