In my years growing up in Los Angeles, it was not uncommon that at the end of a night out I found myself basking in the warm, homey glow of an East LA taco truck. Carnitas, al pastor, lengua: I came to know and love each taco filling as you would a close friend or sibling. I view my early exposure to such outstanding mexican food as both a blessing and a curse. The mexican food in Los Angeles has awarded me some of the most blissfully perfect culinary experiences of my life. As a result, however, I often find myself unfairly shunning mexican restaurants in other cities for minor violations in authenticity, such as tacos covered in ungodly amounts of lettuce or Horchata made from
concentrate.

The bartender at the venue Neumo’s in Seattle recommended we eat dinner at his favorite mexican spot around the corner. On the walk over, I began my usual routine of subtly lowering my expectations as to mitigate the crushing disappointment I’d feel when faced with another mediocre mexican meal.

We were soon standing in front of Rancho Bravo, an authentic mexican restaurant set up inside a converted KFC. The familiar smells of freshly pressed tortillas and spiced meat greeted my nostrils. To my surprise the menu was written entirely in Spanish, and as I enthusiastically scanned the list of the all too familiar taco fillings, I knew my days of taco prejudice were numbered.

-Anton

Rancho Bravo
1001 E Pine St
Seattle, WA 98122

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The Depreciation Guild’s Guide to Road Food: “Have Your Cake and Drink It Too” (Entry 2)

The Depreciation Guild’s Guide to Road Food: “This Love Is Pho-King Right” (Entry 3)

The Depreciation Guild’s Guide to Road Food: “A Deep Shade of Bacon” (Entry 4)

The Depreciation Guild Guide to Road Food: “Guess I’m Only A Spud Boy” (Entry 5)

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