Still there, still the best. Or good, and for the price? Still great.
I got six breakfast tacos, less than six bucks, total.
A little later? Old guy driving a late model Benz sedan? He got out, the requisite and expected boots and hat, “Yessir,” he was saying, “just had us some tacos.”
I inquired as to where, and seeing as how I’d just picked up the aforementioned breakfast tacos there? We compared notes.
“Yeah, we like the Tamale House, over on Airport. Not the cleanest place in the world, but still, food’s good,” he allowed.
The cleanliness, I suppose, is in the eye of the beholder. To me, the place looks like a run-down, 50-year old cinderblock shack, part of a strip mall that never made it big-time, corner of 51st and Airport. Back when it was in the flight path for the old airport.
In many long year, I’ve dined at the Tamale House over and over, and it’s been cheap, plentiful and good. Been a few long years since I’ve ventured that far north, but it was eerily reminiscent of an earlier time. The single two-top table that I’ve sat at, still there. The greasy steps, still there. Looks like the same women are working, although, the banter was a lot of material about “Your Momma,” which, if I recall, isn’t exactly a native hispanic slang.
I can’t speak to the cleanliness, or lack thereof. Looks fine to me. Most dives produce the best food. The Tamale House in Austin? One of the places that consistently gets passed by, and maybe that’s a good thing.
I used to pass under that sign daily.