When thinking about food it is difficult to understand that not everyone has the same excellent taste as us. Reader, I already know that you have excellent taste because you could be reading any of the average food blogs out there, yet you’re here, settled in with a mug of tea and ten minutes to kill with the best. And little old me, well my lunch breaks are filled with research so that we can all be together in this marriage of meals. But not everyone can be so fortunate. I saw the other side of the coin whilst in London recently. Whilst postioned in the central area, I saw crowds amass in Benugos and Prets. I saw workers enter the dirtiest of cafes for £3.50 portions of Lasagne, and others queue for tables at Pizza Express. In one of the greatest cities in the world to eat, the largest groups were settling for that old lover, familiarity. If the last two years have taught me anything it’s that we’re a nation not very good with change, and even when we do want it, we’re awful at delivering it. Old Blighty is still stuck on Friday night fish and chips, Sunday lunches, and warm pints of Carling. We don’t want the danger of the unknown when Pizza Express are still churning out their version of Only Fools and Horses and we know every single word. The reason why just over half of this country made a bad decision about our future is because half the country are still rooted in the past, with their casual racism and view that the new is dangerous. We can have the brightest, most adventurous of humanity at the front, though as long as the old guard are holding on to the rope at the rear any progress will be minimal.
I can’t see tacos passing muster with the old guard. It’s something about the size; that down-the-hatch-in-one mouthful which doesn’t fit with the burly portions of Britain whereupon anything not touching the edges of the plate is considered a starter. To the rest of us they feel like a natural progression, from the awful pulled pork years, through to the burrito and now it’s daintier and far prettier sister. The taco is malleable; a scoop of the good bits untainted by the filler of rice. I head to Breddos for mine, because I have taste and also because it is conveniently located a four minute walk away from the evening party I have to attend. I sit in the window and order a frozen margarita, some tortilla cheese dip thingy and three tacos. That dippy thing is a mixture of three cheeses that appears to be a pretty even mix of mature hard cheese and more stringy mozzerella types, topped with a salsa that has a healthy kick in amongst the onion. The corn chips are nice, but the whole thing is ultimately just tortillas and cheese sauce.
Next time I’ll load up on nothing but tacos. The three I have is probably enough, but I’ll go for much more. The masa fried chicken is a dead cert, given that the corn flour has a pleasing crunch from the same base as the tacos themselves, with pickled cabbage, a little salsa, and mayo that zips with heat. Likewise I’ll be ordering the black bean with pickled onions again. This was the surprise for me, the beans had bite and a little meatiness to them, with a hot sauce that burns just enough. It is one thing to make a taco great with some fried chicken, but to do it with not much more than beans and onions is seriously impressive.
I have another frozen margarita and pay up the bill for £24, before leaving to act like a consummate professional for a couple of hours. I’d heard many a good thing about Breddos from friends in the know, and I’d pretty much agree with their opinion. These are some of the best tacos I’ve tried; constructed with the precision of an architect and loaded with layers of flavour. As I finish writing this it is confirmed that Breddos will be heading to Moseley for a one-off Sunday session at Carters. Let’s hope they enjoy the area enough to stick around on a more permanent basis.