They have a community table at the entrance like the bulletin board in the local coffee shop where people can leave cards and brochures and notices. At the register they ask if you want to donate to the program No Kid Hungry in exchange for a free chips and queso on your next visit. The decor is fun and colorful, an art edit of a real taqueria. It’s all so warm and fuzzy. If only their tacos were at least as good as Taco Bell’s, I would pile on the praise. Alas.
The standard taco topping they use is pretty gringo, and I had to tell them to hold the feta cheese. There is such a thing as a whimsical expansion of known menu parameters. There is also lame. Maybe it was just a bad day, but the person who put the tacos together didn’t even bother to heat up the tortilla after it was taken from the plastic bag. There was very little difference between the tempura shrimp and the “spicy” pork, and that is just a shame. You could argue that I just picked the wrong tacos to order, or should have tried something else on the menu–but, if you put taco in the name, you have to deliver on all the tacos you serve. The place is colorful and well meaning. If only they could cook. The do serve beer there and they are in the middle of condo nation so I guess they’ll stay open and I do wish them well, but I am a taco snob and probably won’t visit Fuzzy’s again with so many other options nearby. Including the Taco Bell I passed on the way back to the office. If only I had stopped there instead.
