24 April 4th-April 10th, 2024 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | FULL BAR! BILLS OF $50 OR MORE Dine-In or Take Out Not Including Combinations Dinner Only Expires 12/31/24 Closed On Tuesdays $5 OFF 2050 N. Alma School Rd., #36 • 480.857.4188 couple first opened a bar next door, then took over the current building when the previous tenant — another restaurant — folded in 1996. The Avitia family has run El Horseshoe ever since, drawing a low-key crowd of regulars for 28 years. They’ve barely changed a thing. When I first visited more than a decade ago, I thought the soups, while solid, were the weak link at El Horseshoe. Not anymore. The Avitias have, to their credit, resisted quesabirria’s tyranny and chosen instead to continue making the same, simple birria de chivo as always. It doesn’t boast the former’s more Instagrammable qualities — part of the reason Phoenix’s trendy food media overlook El Horseshoe, I fear — but look, I’ll beg if I have to. Dear quesabirria acolytes, please spend a little time with this soup. Don’t rush things. Get to know it a bit. Snuggle up to a bowl with a fat stack of tortillas. Pressed and griddled to order, they’re thick finger- scalders with a sweet fragrance that beg to be dunked into the birria’s ruddy broth, exploding with chiles and garlic and brim- ming with a pile of tender, bone-in goat meat. This dish isn’t a greasy one-night love affair that leaves you bloated and moaning in the gutter. This is a partner for life that you grow with over time. Or, if goat inspires commitment issues, give the caldo de res a spin. A good broth is the underappreciated mark of a good cook, and Jackelina’s is dyna- mite. It’s a lustrous, gelatin-rich soup of pure beefy intensity with a gentle herbal lift. It cradles slabs of tender meat, a chunk of sweet corn and giant carrots and potatoes that melt to the touch. Promise to bring me a bowl next time I catch a head cold. If you want something a little sultry, go for the lengua en mole. Lordy-loo, the lengua. El Horseshoe offers cow tongue prepared a number of ways, but the lengua en mole remains my favorite. It’s one of the precious few items that isn’t made completely from scratch, and yet it shines. The Avitias start with a paste and doctor their mole from there, working toward an atypically sweet and smooth sauce that enrobes some of the silkiest, most tender lengua I have ever tasted. For anyone who appreciates mole but hasn’t yet come around to the wonders of tongue, this will be a gateway dish from which there’s no turning back. When Phoenicians discuss their favorite chile verde and chile rojo, I find myself a little perturbed that El Horseshoe’s isn’t in the conversation more often. It is cubed pork shoulder, just a little slick and fatty, gently stewed down to its tender essence. The green bears the brighter notes of tomatillo and herbs, while the red plumbs the smokier depths of toasted dried chiles. But both are beauti- fully rounded and rich, and they exhibit more of a tingling, warm embrace than a performative punch. Is that why El Horseshoe isn’t more popular than it is? Too simple? Too subtle? Too humble for today’s dining scene? To be fair, the necklace of freeways that adorns downtown Phoenix surrounds an awful lot of beloved Mexican restaurants — spots that locals discuss with wide eyes in hushed and reverent tones. And perhaps it’s human nature to stick with the one you love rather than trying something new. But every time I stop by El Horseshoe, I find myself more and more frustrated that a place so good that’s been here so long isn’t part of the conversation more often. With that thought, I’ve lingered long enough. Uribe totals up the tab — cash or Zelle only — and thanks me for coming. I dodge the ceiling fans on my way out the door. The emerging sun blinds me as step into the street, and I’m nearly pulverized by a truck roaring by. I suppose there are worse ways to go than getting pancaked by a Peterbilt with a blissfully full stomach on a bright Phoenix morning after the rain. But I live to return another day. Freshly bathed, the building’s colorful mural now shines like neon. It’s a Sonoran Desert landscape of cactuses and agaves beneath mountainous peaks and a starry sky. Maybe that’s the Avitias’ secret to quietly going about their business. Camouflage. Whatever the reason, there’s too much to love at El Horseshoe and too few people who have discovered its charms. I think it’s time we changed that. El Horseshoe Restaurant 2140 W. Buckeye Road 602-251-3135 instagram.com/el_horseshoe 7 a.m.-3 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; 7 a.m.-2 p.m Sunday. Tacos $3.50; Tortas $9; Plates and Soups $12-$15. Cash or Zelle only. El Horseshoe’s birria is a ruddy broth brimming with tender stewed goat. (Photo by Dominic Armato) Tucked Away Treasure from p 22
