Photo: Mariachi Mexamerica, playing weekly at Tacos El Charro
I discovered Jamaica Plain’s Tacos El Charro way before most non-Latinos. Before it had a “Best of Boston” award and long line of tastemongers waiting forever for a table, I frequented the authentic Taqueria there on Center Street. In about 1990 I started doing sessions nearby at my buddy Dicky Spears’ funky home studio, affectionately known as Squid Hell, located off Green Street. Now that I think of it, I was ahead of the crowd on a couple of levels. First, nobody yet knew about Squid Hell, but by ’94 or so, some of Boston’s most well-known engineers, producers and artists were tracking there. Second, few blue-eyed diners had yet crossed the threshold of Tacos El Charro, partially because it was (and still is) in a Latino neighborhood. In fact, that area of JP was still about eight or more years away from experiencing a huge gentrification and renaissance. (Dicky did very well for himself, buying that house back in about ’88. I can imagine what it must be worth now!).
So, we were always looking for food while sessioning, often opting for Doyle’s Irish Pub, the 100-year old Boston landmark on Washington Street. One lunchy mid-day, Dicky told me about the recently-opened Tacos El Charro. He said it made no sense to call in the order on the phone because they didn’t speak English. This was a good sign. So we just went down there. It was a shabby but clean little Cantina, with the classic piñatas and big fancy sombreros hanging from the ceiling. The smell of oil, cilantro and tortillas filled the restaurant. I noticed a small stage and some folkloric Mexican guitars hanging on the wall, too.
The food was great, cooked by mom in the kitchen and served by girls I surmised were her daughters. We’re talkin’ real Mexican tacos: Chopped seasoned steak with onions and cilantro folded in to a softened corn tortilla with beans on the side. That’s right, soft corn, not flour. There were none of the usual American trappings like cheese or olives or lettuce, making this unquestionably the most authentic Mexican food I’d had since moving from Texas five years before.
While eating, I noticed Mariachi memorabelia everywhere. There were photos of full bands as well as individual (very macho) Mariachis, like Hollywood head-shots. I learned that the owner was Pepe Guitierrez of Guadalajara, and he was, yes, Boston’s original Mariachi. While his wife ran the kitchen, Pepe headed up Mariachi Guadalajara, the only band of Mariachis in town. Turns out the group had been in existence locally since, my memory’s vague here, 1978? 1980? He and his wife DID in fact, speak broken English. The instruments hanging on the walls were the real deal, owned by the group, who played there every Saturday night. The restaurant didn’t have a full liquor license, but they did have beer! Holy shit! What a find! What a freaking FIND!
To make a long story even longer, I became a regular there. I got to know Pepe and the band and the girls who worked there. Dicky and I and bands we were working with at Squid Hell got introduced to Tacos El Charro and the Saturday night Mariachi fiesta. On nights when I had a gig with my band nearby, like at The Midway or The Milky Way, we’d go there to eat before the set. Though the place had yet to be “discovered”, I guess you could say WE were discovering it, bringing people there who likely never would have ventured in. And what fun we had!
One memorable night, we experienced Tacos El Charro in its full glory. (Actually it would be more memorable if I hadn’t drowned so many brain-cells in Tecate and Tequila). It was at least ten years ago now. Now that I think of it, it may have been on the eve of us moving to Albuquerque, which would make it late summer of ’97. Bernadette and I and a few friends, including our friend Bert Katzianer, were there having dinner (Bert was in a band I was producing called Rebel Yell). We had a big table with a party of at least six people. It must have been a Saturday because the Mariachis were doin’ their thing. The cervesa was a-flowin’ and the trumpets were a-blowin’ and before we knew it, they had closed the restaurant with us inside. I distinctly remember one of the waitresses locking the door and putting the closed sign up. I’d guess it was about 11:30 when she did that. Now it was the band, the staff, and US! This is when the REAL party began. Suddenly, I got the distinct feeling beer was not the only beverage being consumed. Everyone was dancing and drinking and whooping and hollering. Apparently we were being considered part of the family, and included in the fiesta.
I think it was Pepe or another guy in the group who first shouted for Beatris. Beatris was our waitress, this cute round Mexican girl with a couple of gold teeth right in the front. Others in the place joined in the call for Beatris to the stage. So, sheepish and blushing, she got up there and Pepe handed her the mic. They struck up a Mariachi Classic, Arboles de la Barranca I think it was, and Beatris proceeded to canta la cancion. She had the voice as strong as Tequila, as smooth as a Mexican brew. Incredible! She set the casa en fuego! To be flies on the wall would have been worth it, but they made us feel like full participants in the carnival. They were bringing us beer and not charging for it. At one point I found myself downstairs (Men's room) and my suspicions were confirmed. I stumbled in to the band room where the Mariachis were enjoying Tequila shots. Far be it for me not to join in! Salud!
After that, it gets pretty fuzzy. Like I said, it would be a night to remember, if only I could remember it!
Tom Halter, the lead trumpet in the group has worked with me in the studio a few times over the years, including recently. He’s an Americano but can play with perfectly imperfect slurry Spanish accent. He’s been in the outfit with Pepe, now called Mariachi Mexamerica since day one. You can hear a sample of his work with me on The Fathoms new LP, “Fathom This!”. Click on this link and play the song, “The Palomino”.
Pepe "El Tapatio" Gutierrez in prime form. Que guapo!
No comments:
Post a Comment