Flash Mart's Tacos: Please Sir, Can I've Some More?
I am left hungry, and I'm pissed off about it, not because the tacos at Flash Mart are regrettable examples of overcooked, drier than Death Valley meat wrapped in flaccid, oily white corn tortillas. It's the opposite.
The tacos prepared and served inside the gas station at the corner of Abrams Road and Park Lane are marvelous pieces of work, packed full of vim, playful textures and embraced with care by soft tortillas. After eating several, I was hungry for more. The Styrofoam container wherein my tacos were wedged and held in place by strings of caramelized white onions, a roasted jalapeño with an eye-burning aroma, key limes and radishes was a vessel for an amuse-bouche, an appetite jump-starter to rival anything offered by some of Dallas' best culinary minds. I wanted to dress myself in tortillas and run into the Church's Chicken next door to exclaim with the assertiveness of a street preacher, "There is real genius at Flash!" Too bad I had eaten them all.
The chorizo, shattered into large grains by an oiled spatula, was zippy and earthy, but not as hot as the soft chicharrón marinated in fiery chilies that ignited a refreshing conflagration in my chest. The bits of sausage that had fallen out of the tortillas onto the surface of the to-go box were the perfect end to a meal that was completed too quickly.
The lengua wasn't chewy, nor were the cubes of tongue spongy. They were just right. The pastor was even better. The orangey-red pork concealed cubes of pineapple dyed the same color. The meat was soft, not like the envelope of marbles I once had at El Si Hay. The citrus had less give than the pork and brightened every bite. I was eating sunshine. The barbacoa was also exquisite, though the least of the bunch.
All of this came as a relief. When I saw the menu hanging above the ordering window to the right of the gas station's door and just beyond some tables and chairs, I stared, smiled, frozen with happy expectation. The selections are extensive. I have barely scratched the taco surface. There are 10 on the menu, including nopalito, tripa, and bistec options. I should have ordered one of everything. Or eaten breakfast. The taqueras offer breakfast tacos as well. There's also a gordita of mole verde, there are huaraches, there are tortas, there are tremendous platters under six bucks, and there are sopes and burritos. There was no way the few people in the kitchen could rock all that, I thought. The fridges in the back of the gas station were stocked with Dogfish Head, Stone, and Real Ale offerings. Too good to be true. Not at all. Too good to not share with you.
6769A Abrams Rd.