I have never before been so willing to dislike an enterprise based on a name, but The Peached Tortilla makes very likable food.
Peached, in case you are interested, is defined as “flavor-smitten." The definition is accompanied by a stylized peach, very I-go-to-Hobby-Lobby-and-buy-paint-sponges-in-fruit-shapes, that would not look out of place hanging on a wall in a room at the Red Roof Inn. I also have very little tolerance for adults who use the word “smitten” but, once again, the food is good, so I kept that to myself when I visited. I should mention that I’ve been friends with Gary, their operations manager, for the last two years, and he never shuts up about the place.
The story is that the owner, Eric, was a lawyer. He wanted to open a taco truck. He opened it as The Peached Tortilla, and there were many trials and tribulations, many ups and downs. It was the sort of story that lends itself to musical theater. Most recently, the truck was featured in Vogue Australia. If you are put off by the trendiness of it, you might want to give them a chance this weekend.
It was a very enthusiastic sandwich, announcing itself to me; a full-on Souza Marching Band down the center of my tongue, which isn’t subtle, but I don’t really like subtle.
When I went, I started with the Bahn Mi slider. The meat was tender, the flavors were complex and well-balanced. It was a very enthusiastic sandwich, announcing itself to me; a full-on Souza Marching Band down the center of my tongue, which isn’t subtle, but I don’t really like subtle. The textures were indivisible. Anything that seemed like it might blare through the composition was instead proven to be completely harmonious with the remaining elements. I’m accustomed to giving the side eye to anything with daikon — if done incorrectly, I forget about the softness of the meat and the bread and am now resigned to chewing radish shards — which is not what happened in this case. None of the elements of the microsandwich were in rebellion with one another — it was kind of like the teamwork on display at a really good, put-together intermural soccer league.
Next I had the crunchy fish taco on corn tortillas. Fish tacos are essentially the easiest thing to get right, but also such a great medium for inventive, adroit culinary craft. I chose corn because I dislike them, strongly, on anything but migas. But when the time came, the tortillas politely disappeared into the taco, comprising a continual textural experience, blurring the lines between container and contained, a sheath deftly reflecting the sword. The breading on the fish was light and unobtrusive, the slaw was a great compliment to it — a very enjoyable fish taco.
I also recommend their sweet potato fries, along with the peach mint sauce. I’m usually suspicious of mint/fruit fusion sauces but this didn’t make any of the mistakes I’ve tasted in the past. They only give you a tiny thimbleful of it, so, I guess, learn to live with disappointment? Or ration your cup so it lasts the entire basket of fries. Yes. I could have done that.
You can look at the rest of their menu on their website, definitely bring at least $10 to avoid going away still hungry.