TacoTime — Restaurant in Prince Albert

I don't understand how a place that is so chinsey with condiments, napkins and refills has stayed open so long.

Not only that I ordered a $10 Fajita there today and what I got was a mushy taco. They only put in chicken, lettuce, tomato, cheese, and sour cream; no onions, salsa or red/green peppers to be seen to make this thing an actual fajita.

I don't like making a big deal out of things so I tried eating more of it and took 2 more bites but decided this just was not good and I feel like I paid to much to not get what I was promised. I took it to the counter and pointed out how my fajita didn't look like the one they had on the order board. They told me something along the lines of "Ma'am we don't make our fajitas with peppers" so I said "Then how is this a fajita? You gave me a mushy taco, I want mine with peppers in it, like what the board shows it's supposed to have". So again the employee says "Ma'am we do not make our fajitas with peppers we use a salsa" so I said "Where is the salsa in this then?"

So he gets the "manager" who's name is Neerma or something and she is absolutely no help. First she says "Ma'am you ate half already, there is nothing we can do" I said "I want something different or my money back because this is not a fajita", she disregards what I have just said and repeats herself with "Ma'am you ate half already, there is nothing we can do", so I said "What can you do then?" she says "Ma'am I am not a manager" so I said "Then why did he say you were one then?" and she was fighting with me for over 5 minutes and I was getting furious. So she says "We have salsa we can put in it" so I said "Are you going to make me a new one?" she laughs at me and says yet again "Ma'am you ate half already, I will put your taco into a new tortilla and add salsa to it".

So I said "You make serve me an overpriced mushy taco and all you're going to do is scrape the rest into a new tortilla and throw salsa on it?" She says "Yes ma'am".

I have never been more frustrated in my life and to top it off when I went back to my table of friends I hear her talking to the other employees, mocking me and them all laughing. I do not appreciate this one bit, I know how it is to deal with problematic people but I was trying to be nice and she was doing everything in her power to not lose money.

Never come here unless you like bad service or overpaying for low...

Taco Time on the hill isn't just about tacos; it's a wild ride into a Mexican fiesta, and I never thought I'd say this about a fast-food joint. The place is like the Narnia of Taco Times – you step in, and suddenly, you're on a festive adventure.

So, why am I bothering to review a franchise known for its predictably tasty eats? Because this particular Taco Time goes beyond the food; it's all about the experience. Picture this: I strut in, and it's not just the aroma of tacos hitting me, but the holiday spirit too. Christmas decorations? Check. They've got it covered, and it's not some half-hearted attempt – it's like Santa threw up in there (in a good way).

Now, the staff – let me tell you, they're like taco wizards. I barely hit the counter, and boom, a friendly face is ready to take my order. This young lady was so on point; I felt like I was placing a taco order with a precision surgeon. The whole joint is buzzing – people chatting, laughing, and genuinely enjoying their meals.

But here's the kicker – a fish tank. In Taco Time. I mean, seriously? It's like they went for the unexpected, and it works. Clean tank, happy fish – it's a taco joint turned aquatic paradise.

And let's talk about the owner's involvement. There's this air of pride, like he's the maestro orchestrating this taco symphony. The staff vibes off it, and you can tell they're in sync. Major props to the owner – he's not just running a Taco Time; he's running a taco kingdom.

So, to the staff, keep rocking that taco magic. To the owner, sir, you've turned Taco Time into Taco Prime Time. May the salsa flow and the tacos never...

Let me set the scene: I had just clawed my way out of the Travelodge, where the carpets whispered dark prophecies. I sought healing at Carpet World and communed with shag pile. But now… I hungered. Not just for food—for meaning. So I wandered, barefoot and spiritually chafed, into TacoTime.

The girl at the counter looked at me like she knew. She handed me a menu with trembling hands. I ordered a beef burrito, a Mexi-fries combo, and one final test of will.

The food arrived in under six minutes. That’s how long it took for my third eye to partially open. The burrito was warm. Suspiciously warm. Like it had opinions. Every bite brought memories I’ve never lived: a beach I’ve never walked on. A dog I’ve never owned. Regret for a wedding that never happened.

The Mexi-fries were somehow both crispy and filled with ancient sorrow. I dipped them in the ranch and briefly achieved ego death. I left my body. I hovered above table #4. I watched myself eat, and I wept.

Also, someone in the kitchen sneezed in a way that felt prophetic.

Bathroom was locked. Possibly for safety reasons.

On the way out, a child looked at me and said, “It’s not over.” I dropped my napkin. It was already folded into a tiny burrito. No one had touched it.

3 stars. The food was technically fine. But the experience? That was a psychological reboot served in a foil wrapper. Come here if you’re hungry… or if your soul needs to be shaken like a packet of hot sauce. Either way, bring a friend. And...