Chilangas El Abuelo #2 Super Tortas

I have a new theory. The longer the name of the Mexican restaurant, the higher the likelihood that the horchata will rock. The horchata (spelled orchata on the menu) came in a styrofoam cup easily the size of a big gulp. The prefabricated lid had plastic cola, root beer and other dimples on top. I definitely prefer the other category. The horchata tasted sweet like a fresh donut from Stan’s in Santa Clara. Bright, fresh, but not sickening. As I sucked the drink I tried to guess the flavor. I couldn’t get it just right. Vanilla? Almond? The brown specks clinging to the side of the cup after I sucked it down led me to think lots of cinnamon.
The enormous torta arrives with a smile. The chef stuffed the torta so full that bits of pork al pastor and onions came tumbling out the side. I had to scoop up the excess with a fork. The bread of the torta exists on a scale somewhere between the bread for a panini and a hamburger bun – soft and fluffy, but with more texture and in a rectangular shape. The torta came with chopped crunchy iceberg lettuce, pickled jalapeños, and tomatos picked – unfortunately – before they were ripe. I’d expect a restaurant in the middle of California’s farm belt to have ripe, sweet tomatoes directly from the farm, but alas no. I doused the pork with a little salsa picante from the front counter.
The combination of the spicy, vinegary sandwich and the sweet delectable horchata made for a great lunch. Do yourself a favor. The next time you drive up 5 or 99, don’t stop at Carl’s Jr. or McDonald’s. Drive the extra couple blocks, stop at this restaurant for lunch, and get a torta with an horchata.
And while I gave this place 3 stars, it’s really 3.5.