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Trejo's Tacos: Recipes and Stories from L.A.: A Cookbook
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About Trejo's Tacos: Recipes And Stories From L.A.: A
Product Description Hollywood’s baddest good guy shares 75 recipes that make Trejo’s Tacos the Los Angeles go-to for award-winning tacos, donuts, and more. Long before he was a Hollywood star, Danny Trejo used to joke with his mom that they should open a restaurant. A few arrests, a couple boxing championships, and more than 300 movies later, Hollywood’s favorite bad guy did just that with Trejo’s Tacos. His unexpected journey from ex-con to actor to Narcotics Anonymous/Alcoholics Anonymous counselor to successful restaurateur is a true rags-to-riches story. Now, in Trejo’s Tacos, Trejo not only shares 75 recipes for cantina favorites like succulent carnitas, vegan cauliflower tacos, and pillowy-sweet cinnamon-sugar lowrider donuts, but offers insights into his life and pays respect to his hometown, his roots, and all of the colorful characters who helped him along the way, creating a delicious tribute to L.A. and the city’s vibrant Latino culture. About the Author Danny Trejo is an acclaimed actor and restaurateur. He owns seven locations of Trejo’s Tacos, Trejo’s Cantina, and Trejo’s Coffee & Donuts in the L.A. area. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. How does a man known for playing merciless, shirtless, tattooed, gun-toting, vengeance-thirsty, knife-throwing tough guys become the face of a restaurant group selling award-winning tacos, authentic barbacoa, and kale salad? I say this a lot and Trejo’s Tacos is proof of it: It’s not how you start. It’s how you finish. While I play “the bad guy” in movies, I’ve been a lot of things over the years, including a boxer, a bodybuilder, a drug counselor, and, for a while, a real bad guy—which is how I ended up in San Quentin and Soledad state prisons in the 1960s. It was in prison that I got clean and sober. That was just one chapter in my story—since then, I have been in over three hundred movies, became a father to three kids, and acquired a collection of lowriders, vintage cars, and motorcycles. I still go to the penitentiaries, but now I’m on the other side of the bars as a drug counselor. I’ve traveled around the world at least ten times for my job, but I always come back home to Los Angeles. My life today is very different from what it was in the 1960s. I used to rob restaurants. Today I own eight of them. And we keep growing, with restaurants from Pasadena to Hollywood and LAX to Woodland Hills. But back to where I started. Home for me in the 1950s and ’60s was a mixed bag to say the least. I grew up in Echo Park long before it became a hipster neighborhood. My family moved to Pacoima in the northeastern corner of the San Fernando Valley, where the sprawl of the L.A. grid glitters until it goes dark against the Angeles National Forest When I wasn’t in prison or getting into trouble, there was always home, and I was always welcome. Even more important than home was Mom, who, no matter whether I was being good or bad, would cook the best food. I loved it. Trejo’s Tacos exists because of that love. My mom was a killer cook. Back in the 1950s in working-class Latino families—heck, in most working families—it went like this: At the first of the month we would have these elaborate, unbelievable meals: chicken mole, carne asada, and enchiladas stacked high like they do in Texas, where my mom was from. But then by the end of the month, when the money was running out and the rent was due, the dishes wouldn’t have proper names. Mom started making food with whatever we had left in the cupboard. We’d ask, “Ma, what is this?” She’d say, “It doesn’t matter. I just mixed it, you know.” The next night we’d ask and she’d say, “It’s out of the cupboard.” The next night she’d say, “Just eat it. It’s good for you.” And it always was. These meals are some of my best memories of growing up. We would also have chorizo and eggs for breakfast. Nopales. Chicharrón she’d cook in a green chile sauce and then mix with eggs. Migas stewed until the tortillas were soft. My d
