Today I ate testicles

Today is a day that I will never forget. I ate testicles, and I liked them.

Tacos Apson, a small, authentic taco bar in the mostly Mexican inhabited south side of Tucson, serves tacos de huevos de becerro (calf's eggs) as a specialty. They cost $2, 30 to 60 cents more than the tacos on the regular menu -- the specials are written on a dry-erase board above the grill. Like the other tacos the meat comes on a soft, warm corn tortilla not much bigger than a drink coaster, with no toppings -- customers help themselves from the toppings bar in the back. I opted to keep it simple and add only chopped onions, cilantro and squeezed lime. I wanted the bull's jewels, with few distractions.

On the sign is a taco-shaped guitar. The owner was the lead singer of a 1960's Mexican rock band, Los Apson.

Frank, the patron who sat at the bar to my left, is a regular at Apson, as well as several other taco bars in South Tucson, but Apson is his favorite. He restrains himself to a couple of visits a week to keep the 25lbs off that he gained when he was eating there twice a day and up to 30 tacos a day. They are all good, he assured me confidently. All except the calf's balls. He's never had them. "I won't eat that. You are a braver man than me." First bite taken, not fully swallowed, I said, "Frank! You gotta try this. I like it." He laughed and shrugged, what I took to mean "Not in this lifetime crazy gringo."

Like a soft, mild sausage, the huevos de becerro chewed delicately and offered a mellow, fatty flavor. The aftertaste was a tad chalky, but not enough to say it was unpleasant. They looked like sausage too -- opaque, almost white in the center with a reddish tint on the outside that may have been the charring from the grill, but sort of looked like veins. I would order them again, and plan to soon.

As much as I loved eating testicles, of the three tacos I ordered it was my least favorite. The taco de cabeza (beef head) and taco de tripa were the two best tacos I've ever eaten.

Taco de tripa on the left, taco de cabeza center and huevos de becerro on the right.

Cabeza at a Mexican restaurant used to mean the entire head of a cow was steamed on a metal tray with holes in it, then the meat was pulled off the bone, shredded and mixed with the steaming liquid and served with tortillas. Now whole cows' heads aren't sold in U.S. markets, but cabeza can still be bought in specially butchered pieces (mostly cheeks) at Mexican meat shops, or carnicerias. They are steamed or braised, often for far too long and become pasty and slimy. Not at Tacos Apson. There the meat is tender but slightly resistant, like ropa vieja, only not as chewy. The flavor is deep, rich and beefy. Little seasoning is needed, most recipes only call for a pinch of salt and a few chilies.

Offal at the Food City in South Tucson. The blocks of cabeza are on the left.

When I ate tripe on a taco before I went to Apson I thought it was horrible. I knew it was in menudo, which I love, but on the taco I ate it was slimy on the outside and unrelenting throughout. Chewing it was a battle. I think I swallowed a couple pieces whole and then surrendered halfway through. That tripe wasn't cooked properly. At Apson, they make tripe a delicacy. It's heaven. They clean it, braise it, season it and toss it on a cast iron charcoal grill, the centerpiece of the kitchen and where most of the meat is finished. It was brown and crunchy on the outside and warm and gooey in the center. Think fried duck fat, only the flavor was undeniably cow.

The charcoal grill in the kitchen at Tacos Apson