September 24, 2009
Address: 2917 West Berry Street, Fort Worth, TX
Rich and Alana both ordered: Chips with guacamole and queso, and tempura fish taco platters with rice and refried beans.
Plus: Giant drinks. Yummy tacos. Jukebox!
Minus: Overwhelming atmosphere. Screechy number-calling lady.
Rating: 8 horned frogs out of 10
Rich sez: On the way to our 2nd sports event in Dallas, an NCAA Football game, Alana mentioned that she had read about a great taco place only a few hundred feet away from the TCU stadium. So, after we bought some TCU merch from the school’s book store, we headed into Fuzzy’s Taco Shop.
Unfortunately we entered through the exit door and thus started the confusion of trying to figure out what the HELL we were supposed to do/go in this madness. As we walked in, some lady on a microphone was screeching out orders like a deaf person with Tourette’s, and there were so many neon lights that I started to have images of Harrison Ford contemplating human life while eating tacos. To add to the chaos, the place was packed, and there were no free tables. With all this ridiculousness going on, Alana escaped my clutches to try to find us a table – NO LUCK – All Alana could get was a small table with no chairs near the entrance. This was no good, so I decided to go back towards the exit and eventually found myself sharing a table with some cross-eyed university students. I sat and waited while Alana went to order us our food and beverages.
Alana sez: Eventually I managed to make my way over to the cashier to order our food from the menu on the wall. I had started feeling pretty anxious because of the crazy atmosphere, so choosing meals for both Rich and myself from the huge variety of tasty-sounding Tex-Mex options seemed like an insurmountable task. Feeling pressure from the counter staff, I blurted out an order for chips and guac, fish tacos, and margaritas. Gigantic drinks and order number in hand, I began to work my way through the crowd toward Rich, who appeared to have taken up camp with a surly-looking co-ed and her gloomy boyfriend.
Rich sez: Alana came back to our shared table with these fishbowl sized drinks and we sat waiting and listening to the crazy woman behind the food counter shouting out numbers in NO numercial order. Finally our number came up, and Alana had trouble maneuvering through the crowd to bring it over to the table. Of course, when all of our food hit the table and Alana got somewhat settled, we noticed a free table. Before I could even take a bite of my first taco chip, Alana cartwheeled out of her seat like a Ninja Turtle and slammed her margarita down on the free table. I collected the baskets of food and sauntered over.
Alana sez: So Rich took his sweet time to get to our third table, but we eventually managed to bring everything over to our newly-claimed booth and carve out a little bubble of peace for ourselves amidst the insanity that is Fuzzy’s. Finally able to relax and enjoy lunch, my mood brightened and I started to sample the food.
The tortilla chips were obviously house-made, light and crispy and topped with a sprinkling of chili powder — some of the best I’ve ever tasted at a restaurant. The guacamole was also super-fresh, with big chunks of avocado and very well-balanced flavours. I moved on to my main dish to find two soft corn tortillas folded around chunks of crunchy, tempura-coated fish, topped with lettuce, tomatoes, and fresh Mexican cheese. A dash of the house hot sauce took these bad boys over the top. As for the sides, I very much enjoyed the creamy refried beans. However, the rice mixed with mushy, overcooked veggies left something to be desired.
Rich sez: Once we were safe in our booth and full of soft-crunchy-taco-goodness, Alana and I decided to stick around for a while. The chaos of the place had grown on us. Maybe it was the fact that the woman abusing the PA system had gone on break. Anyways, this meant another round of margaritas and chips. But this time, instead of guac, we went with queso. I had never had queso, and neither had Alana. My 1st impression was not a good one. It was hot, gooey and creamy white. Those three things usually don’t sit well with me, but this queso tasted like it was milked from a cow in heaven. As we finished up our drinks and enjoyed the ruckus of the purple-clad TCU Horned Frog supporters around us, Alana and I both agreed that Fuzzy, whoever he is, makes some of the best tacos we’ve ever had.