Mexican cuisine is clearly designed to get diners uncomfortably full, and Taqueria La Veracruzana certainly fits the bill: the resulting doggie bag will be haunting me for weeks. The restaurant offers mainstream Mexican fare (burritos, tacos, fajitas etc.), rather than specialties of the Veracruz region.
First up was the guacamole ($5), mysteriously listed as an entree, which was fresh and well made but insufficiently rustic, and served with some banal but unobjectionable corn chips, as well as two excessively liquid salsas (a salsa verde and a pico de gallo).
Shortly thereafter came the chicken tacos ($6), ordered in the chagrining absence of ground beef, which were much more refreshing than anticipated. I was impressed by the quality of the meat, which was mildly stewed in a tomato concoction and worked very well with the heap of cilantro and requisite squeeze of lime. To round off the taco sampling, we had jalapeno and cheese ($6), the only meatless ones of offer. The peppers were stuffed with requeson cheese (a mildly sour counterpart of ricotta), and then fried in batter. As is often the case with whole peppers, the tacos were treacherously inconsistent in their spiciness, but a solid choice nonetheless. The tacos were all of the soft variety, double-wrapped with thin flour tortillas of agreeable doughiness.
The real stomach-churners were to follow: chorizo quesadilla ($9) and "choriqueso" (i.e. chorizo and cheese, $11). Labeled 'Mexican sausage' in Tacqueria's English billing, it was served as a rindless hash rather than as links or chunks thereof. In the choriqueso dish, sliced steak, chorizo and sauteed peppers and onions were meretriciously topped with strings of a pale cheese, which was abundant yet anonymous. And the steak was terrible; laboriously chewy and devoid of flavor. Chorizo quesadillas were altogether better for the absence of this inconvenience, and though suspiciously reminiscent of the tacos, were probably the best thing we had at Taqueria. A sensible amount of sour cream offset the greasiness of the chorizo (to the extent by which one form of pure fat can offset another), and the requeson made a welcome reappearance. Finally we ordered a pork burrito ($6): bulging distressingly with Mexican rice, refried beans, pork and cheese, it was a catalogue of underwhelming flavors.
Some say Tacqueria La Veracruzana offers the best tacos and burritos in Philly, though I found this rather dubious (especially regarding the burritos). Tacqueria serves decent and unassuming Mexican food, but is by no means irreproachable even as a hole-in-the-wall. In order for such a restaurant to distinguish itself, as Pat's and Geno's have with cheesesteaks, and Lorenzo's on South Street with pizza, the whole must be greater than the sum of its parts. Tacqueria uses surprisingly good and fresh ingredients, but has yet to hit upon a secret recipe to make it famous.
