Somewhere in Baja, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing. An occasional stew, beef more than lamb, hash most nights, eggs and abstinence on Saturdays, tortillas on Fridays, sometimes chicken as a treat on Sundays—these consumed three-fourths of his income. His name, though greatly argued over by those who have heard tales of his doings, was either Ticotreme or Talotome, but this does not matter very much in our telling, for our story is about his adventures in el Norte, where he is known only as Juan Frederico Don de la Tacotimé—the man who invented Mexi-Fries.
Joshua Huston
Clearly these men are drawn to Taco Time by the architectural majesty of its edifice.
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Taco Time 2212 N. 45th St., 547-7217, tacotimenw.com. 10:30 a.m.-11 p.m. Mon.-Sat., 11 a.m.-11 p.m. Sun.
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Juan Frederico was a chivalrous man and a lover of adventure. One day, finding himself in the wilds of Oregon (having gotten lost along the way to La Mancha, no doubt) and traveling upon his nag, with his dog, his lance, his shield, and his faithful man-of-all-duties, Sancho Frito, lagging behind, Juan Frederico happened upon the town of Eugene. Eugene was a backward place, full of nothing but trees and coffee shops and stoned college students who cried out for sustenance. Having no money with which to buy food for himself, Juan Frederico was perplexed. What could he do to aid these poor souls who, with their trust funds, could buy SUVs and killer hydro but had nothing with which to soothe their munchies? He thought and thought. He sat in the dirt and wished there was something he could do. "If only there was some fruit of this very earth beneath me," he cried aloud, "that I might pluck it up and give it to faithful Sancho to cook."
In a rage of frustration, he stood, drew forth his lance, and thrust it into the dirt. "Here!" he cried. "Here would I start a northwestern chain of limited-menu Mexican restaurants! It would stretch from this green and mossy place all the way to Curaçao and the Dutch Antilles, bringing surprisingly high-priced tacos to those who had no tacos before!"
And when Juan Frederico Don de la Tacotimé drew forth his lance from the soil, what was speared upon its tip? A potato. A potato which he carefully shredded, formed into a nugget, and handed to Sancho.
"Here, Sancho Frito," he said to his faithful manservant. "Cook this and eat it and see if it is poison. If not, I shall call it . . . "
"A tater tot?" asked Sancho.
"What? No. That's a stupid name. I shall call it a Mexi-Fry, and we shall sell it to stoned college students and beatniks, and it will make us both rich beyond our wildest dreams!"
Now, Juan Frederico Don de la Tacotimé is known as Ron Fraedrick. And the real story is that he opened the first Taco Time restaurant in 1959, in a space right next to his alma mater, the University of Oregon—and the faithful Sancho Frito is not even mentioned. But where in that version of the Taco Time foundation myth is there any explanation for how a chain of Mexican restaurants which stretches from the Pacific Northwest all the way to Kuwait and Sta. Rosaweg 89, Curaçao, could offer tater tots as the backbone of its menu—like fries at McDonald's or salmonella at Taco Bell—and call them "Mexi-Fries"?
They're not. There is nothing even remotely Mexican about the humble tater tot. Search all you want, and the closest thing you will come up with are the fried potatoes of Michoacan. Or maybe the occasional potato hash with chiles. Tater tots don't even rise to the low level of historical accuracy claimed by Taco Time's "Cinnamon Crustos"—which has to be one of the worst names for a food item ever, like something that ought to be served at Krusty Burger, alongside Krusty's Non-Dairy Non-Ice Cream Whey-Product Sandwich and Clownion Rings.
So tell me, which version of the story is better?
In terms of the history of quick-serve Mexican food in the United States, Taco Time has Taco Bell beat hands down. First Taco Bell in the world? Built in 1962 in Downey, Calif., and owned by Glen Bell, who had several other Mexican(ish) restaurants behind him by the time he first thought to put the Taco and the Bell together in one package. By 1962, Fraedrick was already peddling his version of an American tacotopia out-of-state, and the first one opened in Tacoma that same year. By 1970, there were almost 50 Taco Time locations in several Western states. In 1978, the first international location opened in Alberta. A year later, Frank Tonkin split from Fraedrick to create Taco Time Northwest, filling a good chunk of Washington with its fried burritos, Mexi-Fries, and Cinnamon Crustos. Of Taco Time's 350-plus locations worldwide, 72 are in Washington State.
The most recognizable Taco Time in Seattle is the oversized steel-and-glass cube that squats on North 45th Street in Wallingford, looking like some kind of monstrous mother ship just waiting to return the faithful to their home on planet Strange. Hyphenated by neon, glinting bluely in the thin, watery daylight—the oddest time to be here is for breakfast, because it is empty and echoing and the staff moves as if they are all struggling through thick, clear syrup.
