Comalera, E17

Where tacos aren't the stars.

After including Comalera in my round-up of London’s best tacos at the weekend, I knew I wanted to give it a little more attention — if only because celebrating Comalera for its tacos is a little like bigging up Max’s Sandwich Shop for the mac ‘n’ cheese balls. They’re great, but hardly the main event.

Comalera isn’t a taco spot, you see, though they do offer a few of them. Instead, it takes on Mexican street food more broadly, with flautas, chilaquiles, and quesadillas among the other standard entries on the menu.

I’ve got a lot of respect for that willingness to branch a little away from the easy option in a city that only has a short history of offering meaningful Mexican food, especially considering that they’re cooking out of a dinky little shipping container in Walthamstow, which could have been all the more reason to stick to something simpler. The emphasis on Mexican food beyond the ubiquitous taco is pretty central to owner Sarai Caprile’s outlook though, and runs back to long before Comalera found its current home — the first time I ate her cooking she was slinging tortas, a classic Mexican style of sandwich that’s almost nonexistent on this side of the Atlantic, for a pop-up at Stoke Newington’s Doña dubbed ‘Vitamina T’.

Of Comalera’s current menu, the flautas might just be the star. Corn tortillas are rolled up and fried until crisp, stuffed with spiced mashed potato and topped with what can only be described as a heap of sour cream, lettuce, and queso fresco. Those toppings make the flautas feel a lot lighter and more refreshing than fried corn and potato has any right to, especially after a good dunking into the accompanying avocado salsa. If they made a version of these stuffed with beans instead, I don’t think I could bring myself to order anything else.

Esquites are made with that same lime-heavy, unexpectedly refreshing palate in mind. A simple hominy soup is enlivened with citrus, queso, mayonnaise, and chilli, with enough lime to leave it light and lively despite all that dairy. Lukewarm corn soup may not sound like a must-order, but you’d be wise not to skip it.

I’ve heard nothing but raves about Comalera’s chilaquiles, and the quesadillas looked tempting too, but we were drawn to that day’s special: chicharrón de costilla. Made from beef short ribs, rather than pork, these are crispy hunks of meat and bone, as much for gnawing on as anything else. Flavour-wise they were spot on, but the textural combination of crispy and chewy didn’t quite land for me. Chopped up and sprinkled on something else this would probably be heavenly, but as a dish in its own right I’m a little less sure.

I did, of course, try the tacos too, which are refreshingly simple: beef suadero, topped with chopped onion, coriander, and a morita salsa. No fuss, no muss, and excellent value for London at three for £9. There’s a deep, fatty flavour to the beef, and just enough juices to feel luxurious without leaving you unattractively greasy. Anywhere else these would be what the menu was built around, and it speaks to Comalera’s confidence that instead they’re left last on the list.

A few salsas and the obligatory selection of bottled Jarritos round out the menu, perfect to sip on if you’re lucky enough to find yourself propping up one of the lurid green tables on a sunny day. Looking at Comalera’s historic menus it’s clear that the offering varies from time to time, with different fillings and extra tacos popping in and out, which is all the excuse I’ll need to make a return visit as soon as I can.

It’s admittedly reductive, but Comalera reminds me of Sonora from a few years ago: compact, simple, and turning out excellent food that expands London’s understanding of what ‘Mexican’ means. Sonora did that by taking the familiar taco and leaning into a distinctive, regional approach that until then this city had simply lacked. Comalera instead opens up to less familiar form factors — nothing we’ve not seen before, but dishes that don’t get their dues as often as they should. Here they get to be the stars for once, relegating those tacos de paisa to second fiddle, forcing them to share that bright green wedge of limelight.