Vitamin T

When it comes to Mexican food, my heart belongs to the taco. During
every trip to beloved Seattle taco bus
Tacos El Asadero, I become
momentarily convinced that the taco is the perfect food—the
ultimate combination of a meat and starch, spice and tang. It’s
portable and small, therefore lending itself to be consumed in large
quantities. I’d never given much thought to the torta (often
referred to as a “Mexican sandwich”), though I’ve always noticed the
torta’s presence on the menus of all the best Mexican joints and taco
trucks in town. Compared to a taco, a sandwich seemed so ordinary.

A few months ago, a friend told me about Barriga Llena, a restaurant
offering only tortas. Barriga Llena has been serving tortas down in
Federal Way for five years, and just opened a second location in
Greenwood on Aurora Avenue. I was intrigued. I was also utterly charmed
by the fact that Barriga Llena translates to “full belly” and that its
logo is a giant capital “B” with a distended stomach protruding over a
belt. On my first visit to Barriga Llena’s website (which is entirely
in Spanish), I was greeted by the fat, happy “B,” animated thought
bubbles indicating that it was sleeping and dreaming contentedly of
tortas.

Subsequent research into tortas revealed that, like the Vietnamese
banh mi sandwiches everyone loves so much, tortas are the
result of French occupation. Mexicans turned French bread into smaller,
softer rolls called bolillo or telera, and filled
them with traditional meats and cheese. Today, tortas are found
throughout Mexico, and sold on nearly every street corner in Mexico
City. Preferred torta fillings vary regionally, but most are dressed
with lettuce, tomato, onion, refried beans, and avocado. I knew it was
time to visit Barriga Llena when I came across this quote from a woman
attending Mexico’s annual festival celebrating this national food:
“Mexicans will never stop eating tortas. It’s our vitamin T.”

At Barriga Llena’s tiny, pristine location on busy Aurora Avenue, I
had the Barrigona ($6.99 in Seattle, $6.49 in Federal Way), the “torta
de la casa,” filled with milanesa (breaded, fried steak),
roasted pork leg, spicy chorizo, a hot dog, as well as lettuce, tomato,
onion, and avocado. This torta—amazing in its size, structure,
and flavor—is not for the small of stomach. It is a greasy-meat
lover’s dream—delicious oils and meat juices mingle together,
each wondrous bite different from the next. (The hot dog, however, is
entirely unnecessary and may be removed.) I recommend slathering it
with the smoky, red chipotle sauce and adding some of the pickled
jalapeños and carrots that sit on each table. The Barrigona
maybe be a bit overwhelming for most, but the Toluqueña ($6.99),
is a fantastic, lighter meaty option—moist carne asada and more of Barriga Llena’s chorizo that I couldn’t get enough of.

Turns out that Barriga Llena cures its own sausage, and it’s well
worth the half-hour trip to the original location in Federal Way, if
only to see the beautiful dark chorizo hanging behind the register.
Located just off of Pacific Highway South on a quiet cul-de-sac that
seems as though it was once a quiet campground, the older Barriga Llena
has a hand-painted wooden sign above the door and the same brightly
colored murals and painted, carved tables as the Aurora location, but
everything feels a little more settled and comfortable.

I wasn’t as thrilled by the tortas I ordered at the Barriga Llena in
Federal Way. The Diabla ($6.49)—carne enchilada, pineapple, and
Oaxacan cheese—fell a little flat. The steak, rubbed with chili
powder, was not nearly as spicy as it should have been, and while the
pineapple slice was charred on the grill, it couldn’t overcome its
obvious canned origins. And without piles of meat to distract me, I
couldn’t help but be discouraged by the sandwich’s dry, preshredded
iceberg lettuce and sad, pale tomato slices.

That canned pineapple got me thinking. What makes a sandwich
delicious is good, high-quality ingredients—without them, it’s
just a boring, mediocre food item. Same goes for the Mexican
sandwich—without fresh fixings, a torta was just a typical, sad
sandwich.

Thankfully, I was jolted out of my dismal thoughts by my
pierna torta ($5.99)—roasted pork leg, with all the
fixings. That one beautiful, generous piece of pork, tender and moist,
with a wide strip of gloriously crispy fat on its edge, transcended its
less than thrilling accompaniments. With that piece of pork, my
affection for Barriga Llena was restored and cemented. That pierna
torta was so much more than a sandwich.