You voted, now see what Louisville bars & restaurants took...
When I was a kid, “punk” wasn’t quite a fighting word — but it was definitely gateway invective that could escalate into stronger language and culminate in fisticuffs.
Then, along came all those ’60s and ’70s garage bands with their dissonant chords and their dissident ideas. Before I knew what was happening, punk had gone from being an insult to being an aesthetic, with an emphasis on anti-authoritarian originality, do-it-yourself ingenuity and personal authenticity.
Taco Punk, a new addition to the vibrant East Market Street dining scene, certainly fits into that aesthetic. Housed in the space formerly occupied by Toast On Market (which moved up the street), it’s a bright, brick-lined room with big, easy-to-read, poster-sized menus here and there, and a pleasant mix of functional, casual seating. The place smells good, too, as you’ll notice when you step through the door.
The deeper you get into the restaurant, the better the smell — which, depending on how hungry you are and how quickly the line is moving, is what you might call a mixed blessing. Eventually you’ll find yourself queued up in front of a steam table that holds fresh, house-made tortillas, lots of stewed and braised taco fillings — pork shoulder simmered with chilies and pineapple, vegetables cooked in a pumpkin-seed mole, curried lamb, black beans and cheese and more — and garnishes like pickled onions, bright green slices of jalapeno, cilantro and shredded cabbage. There are other things as well: soups, seviche, salads, chips and salsa, and the like.
You pick and choose. The folks behind the counter build your order (which might include an interesting beer or a glass of wine). You pay, head over to the salsa bar (which includes some dynamite sauces), and settle in for a meal.
Taco Punk isn’t the first taco bar in town, by any means. But it seems to me that chef-owner Gabe Sowder (formerly of 610 Magnolia) is trying to do for tacos what Allan Rosenberg and company did for the local pizza scene with Papalinos: bringing big flavors and interesting ideas to a food that’s often taken for granted.
And it’s working pretty well (notwithstanding some service glitches in the early days). It’s impossible to go wrong by simmering smoked, grass-fed beef in beer, mixing in some grilled onions and peppers, and serving it on a tortilla, or mixing spicy chorizo with potatoes, or full-flavored black beans and rice, or smoked Amish chicken in a mole sauce.
If you prefer a grilled filling, Taco Punk rubs white-fleshed fish with a chili rub, grills it up and garnishes it with chili-lime mayo. The staff will also fill your taco with chunks of freshly grilled, marinated chicken.
Conventional flour and corn tortillas are available on request, but Taco Punk’s default tortilla is a steamy slice of heaven that’s closer in spirit to the shell of a tamale than the wrapper of a taco. It’s a steamed, moist, yellow sheet that has the corn-rich smell of masa, and the fine-grained texture of great polenta. Alas, it’s not sturdy enough to work as street food — once I’d covered my tacos with salsa verde and pineapple habanero sauce, I guess it was inevitable that they’d fall apart. But for me the trade-off in flavor was worth it.
Tacos start at $3.25 (smoked chicken mole, chorizo and potato, black beans and cheese) and top out at $4.50 (Yucatecan-style grilled fish). They’re all available as “Punk Platters,” which include two tacos, a generous side (guacamole, black beans and rice, queso, etc.), chips and the salsa bar.
Is there a food or cooking gadget you love? Email freelance columnist Marty Rosen at cjdining@gmail.com.
