The Science of Tacos- La Tinga
The Science of Tacos- La Tinga
By Kris Drummond
Here in Montana we aren’t known for our abundance of world cuisine. Even amidst a burst of economic growth, you’re still more likely to find a steak or a hamburger on Bozeman’s streets than any ethnic offerings. However, just because it’s less common doesn’t mean global eats aren’t around. In fact, some of the best Mexican food I’ve had anywhere exists right here in Bozeman, Montana and offers authentic flavors and fast service everyday but Monday (and most of the winter, when the owners are living in Mexico, perfecting their recipes).
Nestled in amongst a newer westside subdivision, La Tinga is a long time Bozeman favorite. Formerly operating out of a small space on Main Street, La Tinga quickly won the hearts and belly’s of locals and after some years decided to move shop. As a long time advocate of their food and service myself, I decided to head over for a more in-depth study of just how La Tinga has mastered the craft of Mexican food in Montana.
Walking into the spacious Baxter Lane building on a busy Wednesday morning, I was greeted by Kurt, the smiling owner who always does his best to remember customers’ names.
“Charles!” He says after a half-second hesitation. “Good morning!”
Grinning back, I paused, wondering whether I should correct him.
“Actually it’s Kris.”
“Good morning, Kris! What are you having today?”
It was masterful, matrix-level awkward-aikido. Beautiful and flowing redirection. It reminded me of my own teenage years with my parents. Simply pretend the uncomfortable thing wasn’t said and return attention to food. Immediately, I was impressed.
“I’ll take the Tinga burrito, please.”
“Tinga burrito,” Kurt muses. “Good choice. Would you like beans and rice with that?”
“I think I better,” I said, appreciating his validation of my good choice. This was a positive start to what I hoped would be an equally positive meal.
“Thanks Kris, take a seat and we’ll have that right out to you.”
Pouring myself a glass of water and sitting down at a table, I took off my customer hat and put on my rationality hat. I gifted some easy approval and now it was time to buckle down and do some good objective science. I would study carefully the consistency of the meat, the freshness of the tortilla, the overall customer experience...as I waited my imagination carried me fondly back to the many mornings of La Tinga meals that I’ve enjoyed through my college years. I knew that I needed to let this experience stand alone, to judge it by its own merits, but memory is a powerful force. However, before I could fully inhabit my memories, my meal was ready. The call from behind the counter pulled me back into my suddenly-hungry body.
“Kris? Tinga burrito for Kris?” Alba, the other owner and Kurt’s wife, stood smiling over the plate.
Amazed, I rose to collect my food. It had been no more than two minutes. This can sometimes be a bad sign, but I felt awash in gratitude.
After piling the steaming creation high with the cilantro and onion mix that sits permanently on the counter and then slathering it with a hot sauce that can only be described as inflammatory bliss, I returned to my seat, mouth watering. It takes a lot to sway me from the beauty of scientific inquiry, but I must admit that the burrito smelled so good I completely forgot that I was on a quest for truth. Grabbing the warm tortilla, appreciating the juice dripping onto the plate, I took my first bite.
And then my life changed forever. As if being hit in the head, I saw stars. The meat - exquisite. The flavor - a delicate balance of smoky and spicy, accented by the tang of the cilantro-onion mix. My eyelids began to sweat from the hot sauce and in that moment, I knew that the 4.8 star rating on Facebook was no exaggeration. Lost in the flow of the experience, I forgot all the questions I came to ask. I was going to inquire into recipes, inspiration, how they keep it so delicious and so fast simultaneously. But I didn’t. Lost in an eternity of flavor, I finished my burrito and as if in a dream, brought my plate to counter and started walking toward the door. As I did, Kurt looked up.
“Thank you, Kris.” He smiled, probably - like any good taco shaman - well aware of my altered state of consciousness. “We’ll see you again.”
Yes you will, Kurt. Yes you will.