Craving tacos last night, I was dismayed to find the Guerreros Taqueria shuttered. I hope it’s not permanent, but in the case that it is, I’m happy to note that you can find virtually the same menu across the street at the Guerreros Deli (5th Avenue between 22nd and 23rd Streets). I figured that the guy wasn’t going to have time to make me chilaquiles, and was proved right, but that’s hardly an insurmountable problem. Instead, I ordered the longtime favorite al pastor, which I maintain is TO DIE FOR when it’s freshly griddled, as last night’s was. Suadero was good too. Three tacos, one guava drink: seven dollars.
I thus had some bread left over for the bakery that’s a few blocks up on the west side of the street (between 21st and 22nd, I think?). I never know what the hell I’m ordering in those places, but usually I end up with some kind of cookie that explodes into Pecan-Sandie-like dust upon first bite. Not my fave. This time, though, I struck gold. In the two tastes that taste great together department, I ended up with something resembling a denser cupcake, only without frosting and ringed with the flakiest pastry dough I’ve ever had. A cakestry? A pastake? Whatever it’s called, it was magical, and I almost turned back and bought the lot of them – which, at 50 cents apiece, wouldn’t have cleaned me out.