What the fuck is a mulita?
I’ve watched Lo-lita. I’ve been to No-lita. Shit, I’ve drank thousands of Marga-ritas. But I have never in my life heard of a mulita until I went to get tacos for lunch the other day. (Link to the story) I was waiting for my smorgasbord of meat in tortillas and I actually read the menu of my favorite neighborhood taco shop — for the first time. (I usually go in knowing I’m going to get 3 types of tacos or a California Burrito so no need to read)
After picking up my al pastor, carnitas, carne asada, chorizo, and shrimp tacos, I walked to my car pondering this Rubik’s Cube of Mexican Food. What could these things be? Where did they come from? And more importantly what do they taste like? After doing extensive research (by research I mean eating myself into a food coma and googling ‘Mulita’ during half time of the USA soccer game) I discovered mulita’s are basically a corn tortilla sandwich filled with your choice of meat. I like meat. I like tortillas. And I definitely like sandwiches. Let’s do this!
I set my sights on La Taquiza near USC, a place with good reviews and a good looking menu. If you’ve ever been to Los Angeles you know everything is very far away regardless of how close it is. That won’t mean squat to someone who’s never been here, but to some it up. It’s taken me 45 minutes to drive a mile and half during rush hour—using side streets. Not fun. Well La Taquiza is 14 miles from me, but I was on a mission to show everyone my discovery. And this is what I found.
Corn tortilla sandwiches. Pretty simple. I ordered an al pastor (marinated pork) and grilled halibut. A little Surf-n-Turf for my midday gnosh. They were good, not great. Everything was good actually, I just didn’t like the fact I was eating, what was basically a taco, with a knife and fork. Much to the same degree I hate eating pizza with utensils or even a burger for that matter. There are some foods that are meant to be hands-on meals people. Is nothing sacred?
To sum up my mulita experience, I wouldn’t necessarily search them out again, because in the end they are basically confused little tacos waiting to come out of the closet. Everyone will love you regardless, but you’re a taco. Embrace it.