The clientele at Chando’s Taco Stand is an odd bunch. Here, cops and the homeless rub shoulders with obviously wealthy denizens of East Sac and Midtown, all shivering together on a frigid January night.

I had been to Chando’s (863 Arden Way) before, even written about it in a column, and I’ve frequented it since.

But this time was different. This time I was on a hunt for organs.

Not just organs, but bone marrow, succulent pork cheeks and more—all those neglected bits of deliciousness just now making a comeback.

“Cabeza!” the man taking my order nearly shouted, gesturing at his own head. “It’s good! It’s good!”

He was right. It was fatty and rich, braised until it disintegrated into a spicy, smoky, unbelievable porky mix—like bacon, pulled pork and carnitas mixed together.

In short, it was the only thing keeping me going in 37-degree temperatures.

But what sparked this hunt for organs, bones and all the other unwanted bits of meat that have the potential to be oh, so delicious?

Last issue, as my column went through the final stage of editing, a copy editor made a seemingly insignificant comment on my story.

I had written that Catalán cuisine was rich in organ meats, and the well-meaning editor remarked that this sounded frankly disgusting.

But why? Why are these cuts no longer appreciated? Why do so many Americans treat them with such disdain?

It’s true. Most of these tasty bits were once the food of poverty.

Let’s face facts, though.

The best of Mexican, Italian, Indian, Spanish and even French cuisine is peasant food.

So why then did we lose sight of the greatness of the lesser cuts that so often were the cornerstone of those dishes?

It is a question without a simple answer and indeed a question I will not even try to answer.
The bottom line is that all this is changing.

Restaurants across the country are rediscovering these morsels and serving them to an increasingly adventurous public.

This movement goes by many names, though “Nose to tail eating,” a term coined by British chef Fergus Henderson, seems to describe it best.

But that doesn’t matter.

The importance of this movement is that without it, we would never know the unbelievable luxuriance of pork belly as I mentioned in my last column.

Without it, restaurant-goers would never have known the buttery deliciousness within large cow bones that is bone marrow.

Even in our humble city, Ella Dining Room and Bar offers marrow on the menu, scooped onto toast by the diner and piled with parsley-caper salad to provide an acidic counterpoint to the smooth, fatty richness of the marrow.

Sure, sweetbreads are the thymus glands of young cows or lambs, but they are also rich, juicy and without the gaminess of many other organs. And they are now a staple on fine restaurant menus all over the United States.

Mulvaney’s Restaurant in Midtown has long featured sweetbreads—although they are made different every time, they are always delicious.

And tongue is no longer confined to the humble taco stand but is now featured at some of the finest restaurants in the Western world.

However, this may be one area in which fine cuisine is not yet supreme, for Chando’s has the best tongue in the city.

Lengua, beef tongue braised into a succulent, spicy, intoxicating mixture, is hard to beat.

Maybe some things are best prepared the old-fashioned way.