And one day, unto the earth, there was a man who was called Nick. And he did say Let There Be Tacos, and forsooth a crunchy taco shall know a soft taco and they shall come together and beget a new and holy grindage. And Nick looked upon all that he had created, and saw that it was good.
Can a year-old establishment be an "institution"? Yes. If global warming sets in and the sea starts to swallow up Taraval Street, let's pray that the gods see fit to spare Underdogs Too.
This place is the cure for many ailments: Hangovers. Football deprivation. Jalapeño Affective Disorder. Scurvy. However, some patrons may be at risk of contracting nostalgia due to the high number of native species that populate this area seasonally.
Despite a pedigree that stretches back to Polk Street (Nick's Crispy Tacos), this place is deeply Sunset, thanks to the Irving Street original that's served as a perpetual "Cheers" for many neighborhood denizens. When the Taraval location was proclaimed to be opening soon inside the old Bashful Bull, we haunted the Facebook page during every stage of construction, waiting, pressing our noses against the glass and hopping from one foot to the other until they finally opened the doors.
Wear a jersey. Order breakfast beers. Bring your A-game for inevitable debates about the best quarterbacks and the worst refs. Practice not spilling your drink on the heads of the next generation of Niners and Giants fans that are pinballing around underfoot.
On game days, prepare for a big, lively scrum punctuated by buckets of Tecates. This place is a respite from all things snobbish and anti-social. A stranger may buy you a shot. Unless you're an alcoholic on your way to church, you should definitely drink it.
On non-game days? Well.... scrambled huevos and bacon burritos here on a foggy morning, sitting on a barstool in pyjamas, is hands-down one of the best things in San Francisco. Worth the calorie bomb and inevitable need for a nap. The fried egg taco plus a coffee is sublime.
For lunch/dinner? The Nick's Way taco, hard shell inside a soft shell, deserves it's own US Patent. Definitely pick the carne asada or fried fish over the pollo. And, since salsa is the essence of any Mexican establishment, I'd like to propose a WWE Salsa Smackdown in SF: Defending champ "El Picante" Papaolte vs. challenger "The Squeeze McGeeze" Underdogs. Smart money is that Underdogs takes down Papalote with a combo Chokeslam/Brainbuster. (those are real things - just Googled it.) The plastic bottles of red sauce here take the taco salad to Level: Cravable. (Pro tip: there's a habenero version available by request only. Proceed with caution.)
I hear you saying, "Holy starfruit, lady, are you sponsored by this place or something? Shut up with the 5 star love letter already. There has to be SOME kind of suckage to report here, right?"
Okay, sure. Sorry for the nauseating outpouring of positivity. Just because the statistical average number of Joe Montana jerseys present at any given moment is a record-high "5", doesn't mean there's not room for improvement. (or does it?) So, sometimes the service is an eye roller. Most of the time, the servers are money. But other times, they vanish or muck up the waiting list or grunt at you or make boink-me eyes at each other when they should be pouring a pint. But I ain't mad at it.
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