Jeff Orlick and friend eagerly wait for a sandwich outside Tortas Neza.
With 19 varieties of overstuffed tortas all named for Mexican soccer clubs, Tortas Neza was a sandwich shop of epic proportions. Each torta was an over-the-top affair, none more so than the $14 Tortas Puma. Named for league leader Pumas de la UNAM, it consisted of a breaded chicken cutlet, head cheese, chorizo, fried eggs, and sausage among many other fixings. And then one day Tortas Nezas vanished from its Woodside location.
When taco enthusiast Jeff Orlick told me Tortas Neza had resurfaced as a truck in Corona at Roosevelt Avenue and 111 Street I hit the gym ahead in preparation for a visit. A few weeks later the call came and Orlick asked myself and fellow fresser Jim Kim to join him for a midnight run to Neza on a bitter winter’s night. I seem to remember him also saying something about an Irish food truck in the Bronx.
The Maestro preparing a Torta Aguilas.
We ordered two sandwiches a Tortas Aguilas and a Tortas Monarcas, both $8. The first consisted of chicken breast, ham, and cheese, along with the standard Neza fixings: a shmear of refried beans, mayonnaise, pickled jalapeno, lettuce and avocado. It was good but the Monarcas, which the menu simply describes as “pork fried, cheesee,” won this pig lover over.
The porktastic torta Monarcas.
I’ve tried really hard to declare a moratorium on the word “porktastic,” but it’s just too apt for the Torta Monarcas. What’s simply described as fried pork, turns out be crunchy hunks of fried meat along with various sumptuous nasty bits, including supple bands of ear. Combined with the cheese and all the other toppings the sandwich is a gutbomb extraordinaire.
I was glad to have eaten only a third of each sandwich, particularly when Orlick told us that our next stop was The Chipper an Irish food truck in the Woodlawn section of the brunch. There we ordered deep fried sausages that were surely the greasiest thing I’ve eaten in a decade and a mess of French fries with a pleasant sweet brown curry sauce. I suppose such fare might serve as a decent alcohol sponge—the truck is located on a block lined with Irish watering holes—but I can’t quite fathom Orlick’s affinity for it.
On the way back from the Bronx I half-heartedly suggested that we keep the calorific party going with a trip to the Rutger’s Grease trucks. “You know I think they’re open right now,” he said only half kidding.
If you've ever found it challenging to balance a taco while standing up, you may wish to exercise great care eating Tortas Nezas sandwiches. That or take it to go. It's good to see Neza back on the street food playing field.
Tortas Neza, 111 Street and Roosevelt Avenue, Corona
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