Sandwiched firmly between Cinco de Mayo and the Kentucky Derby, today could’ve easily been the most
forgettable Friday of the year.
...
Could’ve.
But then Broken English Taco Pub happened. It’s a new Adolfo Garcia- and Phil Stefani-helmed celebration of all things old Mexico City glamour (and food), and it’s now open in the Loop.
This slideshow contains pictures of what you’ll eat, drink and see once you step inside.
As for what you’ll do, it’ll go something like this...
First, you’ll corral a few parched coworkers for an informal celebration of the impending weekend. If they object, just stare at them for a moment before mouthing the word “tacos.” Works every time.
Once you’re all present and accounted for, head over and grab one of the red booths under the watchful eye of a pop-art-y Frida Kahlo. Then, do what comes naturally.
Order a pitcher of mezcal margaritas, some chicharron guacamole and a few street corn hush puppies for the table. Share some pork belly and spit-roasted chicken tacos. Casually remove yourself from the table and deposit yourself at the bar next to the Reservoir Dogs-esque mural for an off-menu, tequila-spiked Horchata Colada.
It’ll be the one that’s not on the menu.
...
Could’ve.
But then Broken English Taco Pub happened. It’s a new Adolfo Garcia- and Phil Stefani-helmed celebration of all things old Mexico City glamour (and food), and it’s now open in the Loop.
This slideshow contains pictures of what you’ll eat, drink and see once you step inside.
As for what you’ll do, it’ll go something like this...
First, you’ll corral a few parched coworkers for an informal celebration of the impending weekend. If they object, just stare at them for a moment before mouthing the word “tacos.” Works every time.
Once you’re all present and accounted for, head over and grab one of the red booths under the watchful eye of a pop-art-y Frida Kahlo. Then, do what comes naturally.
Order a pitcher of mezcal margaritas, some chicharron guacamole and a few street corn hush puppies for the table. Share some pork belly and spit-roasted chicken tacos. Casually remove yourself from the table and deposit yourself at the bar next to the Reservoir Dogs-esque mural for an off-menu, tequila-spiked Horchata Colada.
It’ll be the one that’s not on the menu.
