If you have ever missed out on a meme — say the odd-couple mashup of blockbuster films Barbie and Oppenheimer into Barbenheimer — you’ll know how I feel about finally making it to Con Huevos Tacos. What’s all the fuss about? I wondered.
Curiosity got the better of me.
The colorful restaurant on East Houston Street has already been written about, photographed or captured on video by anyone interested in San Antonio’s food scene.
Driving by you can’t miss the vibrant blue paint job, but the minuscule east-of-downtown building doesn’t exactly scream “renowned taco titan.” You place your order at an outdoor window and pick it up at a separate window around the corner.
The partially covered seating, enlivened by confetti-hued metal chairs, is all outdoors too. All orders are packed as if to-go, but you have the option to dine there. Nothing suggests there might be a single menu item that clocks in at even $10.
Con Huevos serves up the breakfast taco staples. There’s the canonical bean and cheese in a house-made flour tortilla for $2.95. And if the filling seems nothing out of the ordinary, the tortilla should be the first clue something more is afoot. Multi-layered and light, it’s a work of art of the best and most unpretentious kind.
A slightly fancier scrambled egg with bacon recently pleased a picky 8-year-old, although he firmly declined any add-on salsas.
For the same $4.95 price, I happily devoured a Licha taco. It contains a personal favorite combo — chorizo y papa — cradled in one of those transcendent tortillas. Yes, some cheddar cheese got a little lost in the equation, but a buffer of refried beans served as a soothing counterpoint to the rusty and judiciously greasy chorizo. Unlike my young dining companion, I wasn’t the least bit reluctant to add both the biting red and the sweltering green salsas. One at a time though. There are rules.
Masa ruled the roost from then on.
The Taco Matamoros is available as a stand-alone, but it also figures in an under-$10 combo with an agua fresca and a cup of fideo. It’s the smart move — especially since the agua is exceptional and the fideo a comforting classic. The taco itself, presented in a nixtamal corn tortilla that’s been passed through hot fat, is dominated by a generous portion of sirloin fajita. The meat was happily still a tad pink — and also decidedly tender. Guacamole, queso fresco and onion round out the cast of characters. It’s a winning production, only enhanced by the salsas. Even both at once.
If the nixtamal corn tortilla was very good, the same masa mixed with spinach and nopal was sensational. The added ingredients gave it a pleasant green hue, and the yielding texture made it a suitable canvas on which to compose the vegetable-forward Lupe taco. Chunks of almost sweet calabacita, kernels of corn, diced tomato, a scattering of al-dente black beans and a unifying mantle of queso fresco make this a taco that even unrepentant carnivores can appreciate. It may have been my favorite.
Not that I didn’t appreciate the over-the-top extravaganza that was Con Huevos’ Quesadilla Deshebrada de Res. But it was, frankly, a little much, and hard to eat to boot. The solution is first to devour as much as you can of the braised, shredded beef in guajillo chile that’s spilling out of the folded tortilla. That’s a necessary step before attempting any hoisting or cutting. Then, and only then, pry open the folded tortilla — which will be stuck to the molten magma of queso Oaxaca beneath — and add the quickly pickled slaw. The sprightly slaw, along with crema Mexicana, provide a necessary antidote to the lush, slow-cooked carne.
Forget about that other taco you ordered, though. There probably will be no room.
But if you’re a glutton for both punishment and glorious excess, go on to, say, the Huarache. Though the name translates to “sandal,” the shape of this corn masa vessel is often more canoe-like, its upturned gunwales containing the desired filling. At Con Huevos, the mixture is a modest combination of refried beans, queso fresco and a salad of tomato and lettuce enlivened with marinated red onion. Add crema al gusto. Add both salsas, too, as this is the least surprising filling of any of the above, and the sandal’s sole itself is a touch chewy — though, in compensation, that makes it all the easier to pick up and eat.
On balance, though, the Con Huevos ballyhoo seems deserved. Rumor has it that a nearby facility with indoor seating is on the horizon for the owners, so you may soon be able to decide for yourself in air-conditioned comfort.
Just don’t be the last on the Con Huevos train.
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