Robert “Bobby” Vasquez in the middle with blue shirt
The first thing I ever ordered at the Tamale House- the original one at Congress and First Street (now Cesar Chavez)- was carne guisada tacos with jalapenos and it’s the only thing I ever ate there over the next 30 years. You don’t mess with perfection.
People went ballistic when the word got out that the Cactus Café was closing a few years ago (the outcry saved it), but Tamale House #3 on Airport Boulevard was every bit as vital to the Austin music community. The Vasquez family has announced that TH3 will close for good, following the death of owner Robert Vasquez. Austin musician Paul Minor acknowledged the passing by saying Vasquez has fed him more times than his own mother. Tamale House made sure you had something good to eat each day, even with quarters you pilfered off your roommate’s desk.
But today (Tuesday) and tomorrow, the Tamale House will open one last time, staying open past 3 p.m. today and then all day tomorrow until the food’s gone. I’m heading there as soon as I email this in.
The Tamale House is the closest Austin’s ever got to cheezborger cheezeborger cheezborger. It was fast food done right, with feeling and flavor; an idiosyncratic experience in the town that brought the world Whole Foods. With an interior you might find in a documentary about a Mexican border town, Tamale House #3 was no nonsense, just tasty food at cheap, cheap prices. Five dollars and you’d be eating better than a billionaire. It was not a place to kick back with a marg.
You stood in line and ordered, while the Mexican women made the sweatshop tacos right in front of you because the kitchen ended at the front counter. They called your number and your stomach yelled “Bingo!” Then you got the hell out. I usually ate in the car if one of the two tables wasn’t empty. Some folks plopped down on the steps and tore into their 85 cent tacos like they were desperate for a fix.
You didn’t take people to Tamale House with you unless you wanted to impress them with how streetwise you were. It was all about getting your food, filling up, and feeling like you could take on the world. The closest Austin got to New York City.
Photo: Molly G. from yelp
Once with three locations, the Tamale House made front page news in 1984 when Bobby’s parents Moses and Carmen held out selling the original taco stand, on an 8,000-square foot lot at the corner of Congress and First Street (now Cesar Chavez), until developers upped the offer to $1.6 million. It was a staredown, the money people blinked and the town was charmed by the story of the taco maker who became a millionaire overnight.
A few years later, Bobby and his sister Peggy, who owned now-defunct Tamale House #2 on Guadalupe at 29th St., got into a “Taco War” with competitors, which drove the price of breakfast tacos down to 49 cents each. This was a great time to live in Austin.
The hole in the wall at 5003 Airport Blvd., which hasn’t sold tamales in over 15 years, is one of the last bastions of true Austin soul. It was like a 1977 punk band that rocks today as ferociously as it ever did. Tamale House #3 was controlled chaos, except out in the parking lot where anarchy reigned until fairly recently. But even after parking spaces were painted in the pavement, everybody just kinda parked wherever and from overhead at lunchtime it must’ve looked like a handful of magnets thrown up against the refrigerator door.
The grandchildren of Moses and Carmen have opened Tamale House East fairly recently at the former E. Sixth St. location of Mexico Tipico and it’s really good. But it’s not the same. There was no place in town like Tamale House #3, which tackled hangovers and fed the poor and hungry for 37 years. Losing it feels a little like losing Electric Lounge or Steamboat, neither of which has ever been replaced.
Photo: Molly G. from yelp