Trejo's tacos : recipes and stories from LA /

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

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.

Table of contents provided by Syndetics

• Introduction (p. 8)
• Once Upon a Time in Los Angeles
• How to Cook the Trejo Way (p. 14)
• Mix It Mexican (p. 17)
• Trejo's Pantry: Essential Ingredients for Making the Most of This Book (p. 21)
• Butcher Basics: Why Meat Matters (and Seafood, Too) (p. 27)
• From Machetes to Molcajctes: The Gear You Need (p. 33)
• Trejo Town: A (Mostly) Food-Focused Look at Danny's L.A. (p. 37)
• Salsas, Cremas, Sauces & Vinaigrettes (p. 44)
• Tacos, Burritos, Bowls & Quesadillas (p. 68)
• Food That Isn't a Taco (p. 148)
• Donuts & Desserts (p. 178)
• Margaritas & Other Drinks (p. 204)
• Acknowledgments (p. 218)
• Index (p. 220)

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

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 dad didn't share our enthusiasm for food. He'd come home from work and he would just eat. My dad was the Mexican Archie Bunker. He had five brothers. If they made baseball cards for these guys, they would all read "Position: Macho." Back then the thinking was that your wife should stay home and cook. Only in families where the guys couldn't make it on their own did the wives have to work. So when I would say, "Mom, let's open a restaurant!" and we'd talk about what our restaurant would serve and how it would look, my dad would bark: "Why do you need a restaurant? You've got a fully functioning kitchen with a freaking O'Keefe and Merritt stove right there!" (O'Keefe and Merritt stoves were big in the 1950s and now they're collector's items--if you don't believe me, just check eBay.) "Both of you can go in there and cook whatever you want." And so there went that dream. When I was twelve, my life took a detour when I started hanging out with Uncle Gilbert, my dad's youngest brother. He was my hero--he taught me how to box, and it turned out I was a natural. He was also the guy who got me into drugs and robbing people. We were literal partners in crime. It got to the point where you weren't quite sure if you robbed people to support your drug habit or did drugs to support your robbery habit. Through it all, my mom was always there for me, in the kitchen cooking up carne asada or chilaquiles, no matter what. When I was out partying with my friends, we'd all show up in my mom's kitchen, sometimes at one, two o'clock in the morning. First, my mom would bawl me out for being out so late. Then she'd make us something to eat with a big smile on her face, thanking God I was home. That kitchen was always a safe haven, a place where I could stay out of trouble. But I never stayed out of trouble for very long. I ended up doing time for armed robbery and drug dealing. In Soledad and San Quentin I put my boxing skills to good use and became a lightweight and welterweight boxing champion, so I would always eat well. Sometimes I wouldn't even need to go to chow--people would just bring me food. On Saturdays we'd have what we called "spreads," which are kind of like prison picnics, as much as they could be in a place like the pen--a sort of celebration of life, mostly for the guys that didn't get visits because they had a falling out with their family, or their wife or girlfriend left them. We took care of each other--we'd all get together and everybody would bring something. Sort of like a potluck. You know that scene in Goodfellas with all the guys sitting around cooking and eating this big Italian feast? It wasn't quite like that. Some guys would bring noodles, some guys would bring loose bread, or chocolate, another guy would bring some smuggled-in hooch or homemade pruno, the booze you make by fermenting sugar and cafeteria scraps. We'd all sit out in the yard and have a picnic. I was in and out of prison for eleven years, and toward the end of that time, I got sober. I remember it clearly. It was Cinco de Mayo, 1968. I made a vow to get clean and to dedicate myself to helping others. When I got out a year later, I started working with ex-cons and other guys who were trying to get and stay clean, too. I worked construction and became a drug counselor. One day one of the guys I was helping stay clean asked me to go visit him on the set of a movie he was working on. This was the mid-'80s and there were a lot of drugs on set and the guy wanted me to be there and help keep him from using. So I go down to the set and I'm watching them film the movie--it was called Runaway Train and Eric Roberts was the star. The movie took place in a prison, so I felt right at home. In a weird twist of fate, the screenwriter happened to be my old pal Eddie Bunker, who did time with me in San Quentin. He recognized me (I kind of stand out) and remembered that I was a boxer. Eddie hired me to train the movie's star, Eric Roberts, how to box. The director of the movie, Andrei Konchalovsky, liked the way I looked and cast me as a fighter. That launched my career. From there I started getting roles--you know, for the characters you see listed in the credits as "bad guy #1," or "scary guy #2," "tough guy #3," you get the gist. I eventually worked my way up to Razor Charlie in Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino's From Dusk till Dawn , Trejo in Michael Mann's Heat , and Machete in everything from Spy Kids to Machete Kills . So some thirty years and three hundred movies later I'm working on a movie called Bad Ass with a producer named Ash Shah. He provided much better craft services--or "crafty," as the movie industry calls on-set catering--than most producers. There were always fresh salads, vegetables, and grilled fish. I like to eat clean and Ash saw that I appreciated the healthy spread. One day we're eating dinner and he asks me outright, "Danny, why don't you open a restaurant?" At that moment I almost heard my mom speaking. I felt chills course through my body. But I didn't really take it seriously, so I just joked, "Sure, and I'd call it Trejo's Tacos!" I was kidding, but Ash wasn't. Six months later Ash came to me with a business plan. And it was a great plan. Over the years we've learned a lot of things about cooking a new kind of L.A.-Mexican food and we want to share it with you. Excerpted from Trejo's Tacos: Recipes and Stories from L. A. : a Cookbook by Danny Trejo All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Library Journal Review

Trejo has ascended from veteran actor to established restaurateur, with Trejo's Tacos and Trejo's Coffee & Donuts becoming must-visit Los Angeles institutions. In this cookbook, he shares 75 of his favorite recipes, from his signature donuts to margaritas, and everything you'd eat in between. For many recipes, he begins with a "master recipe" based on the type of meat featured, which can be repurposed in various ways, including tacos, bowls, and burritos. Vegetarians and vegans should not fret as many of the tacos, entrees, and sauces feature plant-based ingredients. There are even some surprises, like chicken tikka tacos and an entire chapter on "Food That Isn't a Taco." Vivid photographs by Anderson are featured throughout. Also included are autobiographical reflections on the actor's life, along with helpful advice on cooking and ingredient selection. VERDICT Readers will find Trejo's cookbook, like his acting roles, to be a solid effort which does not hold back nor disappoint.--Jennifer Clifton, Indiana State Lib., Indianapolis

Publishers Weekly Review

Instantly recognizable as a menacing bad guy in over 300 films and TV shows, actor Trejo is also an L.A. restaurateur, and here he presents excellent recipes from his Trejo's Tacos restaurants. Trejo begins with advice for stocking a Mexican pantry, then offers traditional recipes based on key ingredients that can be used in tacos, burritos, or rice bowls--including Barbacoa brisket, carne asada (as well as a mushroom version), carnitas, and grilled chicken. For those wanting to expand their taco repertoire, Trejo offers inventive riffs on such fillings as falafel, roasted cauliflower, beer-battered fish, grilled spicy shrimp, and even a chicken tikka. He rounds out the collection with sauces (chipotle shrimp cocktail sauce), sides (cotija and chile mashed potatoes), and desserts (nacho donuts, made with cheddar cheese and poblano chiles), as well as a variety of margaritas. Trejo keeps the sourcing and prep to a minimum while coaxing maximum flavor out of each dish, making the food approachable for home cooks of all abilities. This fiendishly creative collection is a must-have for taco lovers. (Apr.)

Booklist Review

Hollywood heavy, L.A. native, and restauranteur Trejo delivers a bright, robust cookbook that goes far beyond the tacos in its title. Traditional Mexican American foods, such as carnitas, barbacoa, and salsas, are well represented and delectable. Going beyond the conventional, vegetarian and fusion choices like mushroom asada and chicken tikka tacos are plentiful and elevate this collection beyond a celebrity cookbook. Helping cooks make the most of the recipes, a section titled "How to Cook the Trejo Way" provides instruction and guidance with spice, butchering, and equipment basics. Cookbook readers and fans of Trejo will also enjoy the autobiographical vignettes and entertaining food-focused stories told as if they were touring L.A. with Trejo at the wheel of one of his classic cars. Mouth-watering donuts and margaritas round out the journey, and add finishing touches to meals. Trejo successfully translates his food philosophy from his restaurants into this collection of authentic, atypical, delicious recipes that can be easily executed by home chefs.

Author notes provided by Syndetics

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.