The Ultimate TexasTacopedia
Your guide to the many types of tacos around the state, where to find them, and how to enjoy them!
Back in April, as we were grappling with the early stages of the pandemic, I wrote an optimistic ode to what I called “the enduring taco.” Not only did my favorite food offer tortilla-wrapped comfort when we needed it most, but its versatility, economy, and portability made it almost pandemic-proof. “There’s never been a better time to sell tacos,” Andrew Savoie, the chef and co-owner of Dallas’s Resident Taqueria, told me at the time.
What I’ve witnessed this year backs up Savoie’s assertion. Comedor and Suerte, two high-end Austin restaurants, pivoted to selling taco kits after dining rooms were closed across the state. Torchy’s Tacos went ahead with pre-pandemic expansion plans and, since March, has opened nine new restaurants in Texas and three other states. Nationally, food delivery service company DoorDash reported in July that its customers said they missed dining on Mexican food more than any other cuisine during quarantine. With more people making tacos at home, tortilla sales across the country rose a reported 10 percent.
As we’ve all had to do this year, taquerias have adapted and evolved. While the basic framework of tortilla-plus-filling-plus-salsa remains, the taco continues to change in new and exciting ways. Just look at the many types now available across Texas, where the twin forces of tradition and modernization keep things interesting. Tradition is sustained in the rural areas of the state, with their decades-old homey Mexican diners and cafes. In our cities, chef-driven restaurants and freewheeling pop-ups are experimenting, sometimes subtly and other times with abandon. Several of the styles growing in popularity include costras, with tortillas covered in griddled cheese; birria de res tacos, filled with slow-cooked beef and served with a side of consommé; and Japanese tacos, combining ingredients and methods you might find in Tokyo and Tijuana.
At Texas Monthly, we have long chronicled the changing landscape of Mexican and Tex-Mex cuisine. In our most recent taco cover story, in 2015, the magazine published a hefty compilation of the top 120 tacos in the state. When I came aboard as TM’s first taco editor late last year, I began working on the long-planned follow-up to that list. Then COVID -19 forced life (and our plans) to a head-jerking halt. Since travel became difficult, we needed to revise our strategy.
So we took our cues from the state’s taco chefs and cooks—most of them Latinos, one of the groups hit hardest by the coronavirus—who reimagined and reinvented themselves this year. Instead of a best-of list, we’ve assembled the “Ultimate Texas Tacopedia,” a compilation of the state’s favorite and most exciting taco styles that spells out where to find the best specimens of each dish. You'll also find links here to our “Taco Trails,” featuring dozens of recommended taquerias in six regions of the state, as well as taqueria spotlights, tips on "How to Taco," and more. ¡Buen provecho!
A platter at Tacos Al Vapor Monterrey, in Brownsville.
Photograph by Brenda Bazán
Al Vapor
Steamed tacos, also known as tacos sudados (from the Spanish term for “sweaty”), and as tacos de canasta.
The deshebrada (shredded beef) at Tacos Al Vapor Monterrey, in Brownsville.
Although tacos al vapor are found in taquerias from Brownsville to Dallas, they came to wider attention last year with the help of Netflix’s Taco Chronicles, the James Beard Award–winning docuseries. One installment put the spotlight on tacos de canasta, which are steamed in woven baskets (canastas) and sold on the streets in Mexico City. In Texas, tacos al vapor are typically prepared in steamer trays or pots to achieve the desired moistness and flavor. Brownsville’s Tacos Al Vapor Monterrey (74 S. Price Rd, 956-542-1111) uses a metal steamer pot typical of those in its namesake city. The restaurant offers platters of its eponymous tacos on small corn tortillas, which shimmer reddish-orange and contain fillings such as refried beans, shredded beef, mashed potatoes, chicharrón (fried pork skin), and picadillo, with garnishes of shredded cabbage, sliced onions, and chopped tomatoes. Their compact size and pleasant greasiness make them ideal for voracious late-morning munching, especially after late-night imbibing.
The Tijuana Fever taco at La Resistencia, in Dallas.
Photograph by Brittany Conerly
Asian-Mex
A wide category that includes Korean, Japanese, and Indian tacos, featuring ingredients and cooking methods native to Asia.
The Tijuana Fever at La Resistencia, in Dallas.
- Bull Gogi Boys, in San Antonio.
- Reunión 19, in Austin.
- Edoko Omakase, in Las Colinas.
- C Rojo’s Taqueria, in Tyler.
- Twisted Turban, in Houston.
After becoming all the rage in Los Angeles more than a decade ago, Korean tacos quickly made their way to Texas and are now the most common Asian tacos in the state. Korean tacos are corn or flour tortillas stuffed with marinated meats, including strips of umami-infused beef bulgogi, and topped with an assortment of cabbage preparations, most notably peppy, aromatic kimchi. Nailing the elements perfectly is what makes San Antonio’s Bull Gogi Boys trailer (14530 Roadrunner Way, 210-816-1455) the best in the state. Austin’s Reunión 19 (1700 E. Second, 512-455-8226), which specializes in West Coast–style tacos, goes the vegetarian route with the K.Town Shroom: cremini mushrooms dressed in palate-tickling fermented-chile-based gochujang salsa and capped with red-onion kimchi.
Japanese tacos are a rising style of Asian-Mex. The most prominent exemplars are in the Dallas area. First is Edoko Omakase (1030 W. John Carpenter Fwy, 972-600-8626), in Las Colinas, where luscious, buttery sea urchin is a customer favorite, as is the eel. Then there is La Resistencia (2701 Main, 214-272-7163), an offshoot of Revolver Taco Lounge that specializes in Japanese yakitori-style seafood, including a Baja-inspired fish taco with a majestic fried whole prawn.
A taste of the Pacific islands is found in Tyler at C Rojo’s Taqueria (13156 County Rd 3140, 903-952-9189). Chef and co-owner Rogelio Tellez serves Chamex, a blend of his wife’s Chamorro Northern Marianas heritage and his own Mexican culinary tradition. The shrimp taco features plump, blackened crustaceans with a pleasant chew; chipotle mayo and mango pico give every bite wonderful heat. For more of the tropics, request the flour tortillas, made with coconut to resemble the Chamorro titiyas, a cross between tortillas and flatbread. At subcontinental Indo-Mex specialist Twisted Turban (2838 S. Texas Hwy 6, 281-372-8194), in Houston, the tortilla is replaced with paratha, a North Indian flatbread, and filled with spicy halal stews of succulent beef and cauliflower with squiggles of raita.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
The Jerk Shack, San Antonio
Bringing The Caribbean To San Antonio
“I think some people have misconstrued what authenticity is,” says Nicola Blaque, the chef and owner of Jamaican restaurant the Jerk Shack, on San Antonio’s historically Mexican American West Side. “People think because everyone’s doing it, it makes it authentic. It’s not necessarily [so].” She’s right, of course. And in a city—not to mention a neighborhood—blanketed by Mexican restaurants, taquerias, and tortilla factories, she and her husband, Cornelius Massey, have carved out a niche by doing a different kind of taco.
Blaque opened the Jerk Shack on a side street in May 2018 as a walk-up restaurant flanked by two covered patios; the menu features proteins marinated in a Scotch bonnet–heavy mix of aromatics such as garlic and onions blended with allspice, ginger, and other earthy spices. The jerk marinade isn’t sweat-for-days spicy, though—at least not anymore. Blaque, a Jamaica native who graduated from the Culinary Institute of America’s San Antonio campus, realized early on that her spice was overwhelming customers’ palates, so she dialed it back and let the fruity flavors come through. The pineapple pico garnish adds another layer of brightness to the tacos, which feature pork, chicken, or vegan jackfruit.
Barbacoa / Barbecue
Barbacoa is steamed meat, typically cow’s head or beef cheeks; barbecue tacos are smoked meats wrapped in a tortilla.
The Robert Special at Los Jacales Restaurant, in Laredo.
- Vera's Backyard Bar-B-Que, in Brownsville.
- Southside Barbacoa, in Corpus Christi.
- Martinez Bakery, in Midland.
- Mary’s Tacos, in Kerrville.
- Sabor Tapatio, in Austin.
- Valentina’s Tex Mex BBQ, in Austin.
Crowd Sourcing
In prepandemic times, crowded taquerias or long lines in front of a trailer were helpful signals of quality tacos. We don’t have those signposts right now. But a full parking lot, albeit with customers waiting for curbside pickup, remains a good indicator.
As every smoked-meat fanatic ought to know, before there was Texas barbecue, there was barbacoa. Traditionally, barbacoa, which has its roots in the cuisine of the Taíno people of the Caribbean Basin, is cooked in underground pits or ovens. But state health regulations have forced restaurants to use steamers or pressure cookers—with one notable exception, Vera’s Backyard Bar-B-Que (2404 Southmost Blvd, 956-546-4159), in Brownsville; the 65-year-old joint was grandfathered in. It still prepares its specialty, cabeza de la vaca (cow’s head), underground in a brick-lined pit, where the meat is smoked over mesquite coals for as long as twelve hours. The cheek meat, Vera’s most popular item, is tender and smoky. Among the best purveyors of beef barbacoa that use more newfangled methods are Southside Barbacoa (5894 Everhart Rd, 361-334-0888), in Corpus Christi; Martinez Bakery (206 E. Florida Ave, 432-683-3100), in Midland; and Mary’s Tacos (1616 Broadway, 830-895-7474), in Kerrville. At Austin’s Sabor Tapatio (5604 S. Congress Ave, 512-483-4241), silky barbacoa is placed on a tortilla, topped with cheese, and folded before being crisped on the griddle.
On the other side of the slash is barbacoa’s descendant, barbecue. Serving smoked meat in a tortilla allows it to go further and at a better price. A standout is Valentina’s Tex Mex BBQ (11500 Manchaca Rd, 512-221-4248), in Austin, whose Real Deal Holyfield taco is an impressive, messy assembly of refried beans, bacon, potatoes, brisket, fried egg, and a tomato-serrano salsa. Another is Laredo’s Los Jacales Restaurant (620 Guadalupe, 956-722-8470), whose Robert Special, with mesquite-smoked brisket topped with cracked bacon, is one of the greatest breakfast tacos in the state.
Crowd Sourcing
In prepandemic times, crowded taquerias or long lines in front of a trailer were helpful signals of quality tacos. We don’t have those signposts right now. But a full parking lot, albeit with customers waiting for curbside pickup, remains a good indicator.
The Austin Taco Trail
The quesabirria tacos at Maskaras Mexican Grill, in Dallas.
Photograph by Brittany Conerly
Birria
A Mexican stew featuring any variety of meats. When made with cheese, birria tacos can also be called quesitacos, quesatacos, quesotacos, quesibirria, and quesabirria.
The quesabirria at Maskaras Mexican Grill, in Dallas.
- El Remedio, in San Antonio.
- Wall St. Cocina, in Midland.
- Revolver Taco Lounge, in Dallas.
Birria is arguably the trendiest taco of the past year and a half, and it’s also probably the most misunderstood. Its popularity in beef form has led to a perception that birria is an ingredient. It’s not. It’s a comforting, homey stew that can be made with any number of proteins. In Jalisco, the Mexican state commonly accepted as the birthplace of birria, it traditionally contains goat or lamb. Tijuana is the birthplace of the distinctive vermilion-stained tacos de birria de res (beef), whose tortillas are slathered in rich, chile-infused consommé (and accompanied by the same broth in cups for dipping) before being fried. They’ve set the stateside taco landscape ablaze, beginning in Los Angeles, where vanguard taquerias leveraged social media to promote them.
Texas taco joints took notice. Among those operations adding birria de res to their menus is El Remedio (2924 Culebra Rd, 210-621-3112), in San Antonio, which uses a recipe from Sahuayo, Mexico, but gives it a West Coast touch by adding oozing white cheese to make knockout quesitacos. Wall St. Cocina (703 W. Wall, 432-247-1440), in Midland, uses a beef birria recipe inspired by the crispy breakfast tacos sold on the streets of Guadalajara. At Dallas’s Maskaras Mexican Grill (2423 W. KiestBlvd, 469-466-9282), co-owner Rodolfo Jimenez, who hails from Guadalajara, offers the stretchiest, most flavorful quesabirria. Although birria de res seems to rule right now, Revolver Taco Lounge (2701 Main, 214-272-7163), also in Dallas, serves a straight-up traditional birria de cabrito. The goat taco is a faintly gamy delight on two fresh, house-made corn tortillas.
The chilaquiles taco with mole sauce at Granny's Tacos, in Austin.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
The chilaquiles taco at Granny’s Tacos, in Austin.
- Sylvia’s Restaurant, in Brownsville.
- Garcia’s Mexican Food, in San Antonio.
- Con Huevos Tacos, in San Antonio.
- Los Muertos BBQ, in Katy.
Breakfast
A wide category that applies to breakfast fillings (and a few surprises) wrapped in a tortilla. They can be served any time of day.
The chilaquiles taco with mole sauce at Granny's Tacos, in Austin.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
The chilaquiles taco at Granny’s Tacos, in Austin.
- Sylvia’s Restaurant, in Brownsville.
- Garcia’s Mexican Food, in San Antonio.
- Con Huevos Tacos, in San Antonio.
- Los Muertos BBQ, in Katy.
If any dining issue divides Texans as much as the topic of beans in chili, it’s breakfast tacos. Austin and San Antonio love to argue about which city is the birthplace of this morning mainstay, but neither has a legitimate claim. That’s because it hails from both sides of the borderlands, where breakfast tacos, like those at Sylvia’s Restaurant (1843 Southmost Blvd, 956-542-9220), in Brownsville, dominate. Known as “tortillas de harina,” referring to the large flour tortillas on which they’re served, Sylvia’s best tacos include the machacado con huevo, the carne guisada, and the off-menu Miriam, which is crammed with chopped fajita, avocado, and mozzarella. It’s best to cut these offerings in half before eating.
Breakfast tacos are a way of life across South Texas. There’s an astonishing array in San Antonio, including the bone-in pork chop taco at Garcia’s Mexican Food (842 Fredericksburg Rd, 210-735-4525). It’s served with a steak knife, but I don’t use it and instead go all in, eating the taco with my hands and chowing down around the bone. Over at Con Huevos Tacos (1629 E. Houston, 210-229-9295), the potato and egg taco features cubed tubers, browned and snappy at the edges, mixed in with bouncy scrambled eggs given a spike of heat with red jalapeño salsa.
Farther north, at East Austin trailer Granny’s Tacos (1401 E. Seventh, 512-701-4000), the chilaquiles taco is what the migas version wants to be when it grows up. Migas, a dish featuring crushed tortilla chips scrambled with eggs, pico de gallo, and cheese, is a common breakfast taco filling from Austin southward. The more complex chilaquiles taco is made with stale tortillas that are cooked in salsa and then topped with eggs (usually fried). At Granny’s, the eggs in these tacos are scrambled, and the salsa is abundant. To the east, in Katy, Los Muertos BBQ (25551 Kingsland Blvd C102, 281-505-1121) serves up fantastic smoked weenies and eggs in a fluffy flour tortilla.
Photograph by Brittany Conerly
Maskaras Mexican Grill, Dallas
Overcoming Hardships And Celebrating Life
The first time Rodolfo Jimenez crossed into the United States, he was fifteen. Jimenez swam across the Rio Grande with a life preserver wrapped around his midsection, and he slipped his fingers through the straps of his sandals to use as paddles. He stayed in a hotel room in Laredo for two weeks before voluntarily returning to his native Guadalajara. Later that same year, he crossed again, this time at the Tijuana–San Diego border. He and his coyote, or smuggler, were lost in the California desert when Jimenez sprained his ankle. His joint swelled, making it unbearable to walk or wear shoes. The teenager hid under scrub to evade the lights of Border Patrol agents. Jimenez prayed for a sign from God that he’d be delivered safely to his brother in Chicago. Moments later, he says, a blue heron landed just inches from him. The young man took this as a hopeful sign, one that helped him muster the strength to press on. Jimenez is a faithful Catholic, and in Christian symbolism, blue herons are a sign of good luck and prosperity. After a week and a half lost in the desert, he eventually made it to the Windy City.
But Jimenez, the eighth of nine children, later decided to return to Guadalajara to work alongside his siblings. This is despite growing up in extreme poverty and having to shine shoes on the street to support his family. The family was so poor that Jimenez’s youngest sister died at the age of three because there wasn’t enough money to take her to the doctor. Once back in Guadalajara, Jimenez went to work selling aguas frescas at a mercado.
Burritos
Large flour tortillas stuffed with a main ingredient and refried beans, then usually rolled.
The colitas de pavo burrito at Cazares Meat Market, in Anthony.
- Taqueria El Cometa, in El Paso.
- Oscar’s Super Burrito, in Midland.
Name Game
Taqueria names can reference everything from a place to a family. Look for terms that refer to processes (Nixta Taqueria, in Austin, nixtamalizes its corn); technique (El Tizoncito, in Dallas, is named after charcoal used for trompos); equipment (Discada, in Austin, uses a disco, also known as a cowboy wok); or regionality (El Oaxaqueño, in Arlington, emphasizes food from Oaxaca).
These large tacos are a staple of the U.S.-Mexico borderlands, specifically the states of Sonora, Chihuahua, California, Arizona, and New Mexico, and a sliver of far West Texas near El Paso. Cazares Meat Market (717 S. Main, 915-886-3144), in Anthony, north of El Paso, serves a spicy, skinny burrito stuffed with crunchy but moist colitas de pavo (fried turkey tails). Juárez import Taqueria El Cometa (4131 N. Mesa, 915-275-4215), in El Paso, offers a burrita (an alternative name for the taco style) that is folded and filled with delicate twists of beef. Midland institution Oscar’s Super Burrito (4306 Neely Ave, 432-699-0242) plays wildly with its fillings, such as with the Oscar’s Special (egg, breakfast sausage, chorizo, ham, bacon, rice, beans, and hash browns or fries slathered with chile con queso).
Name Game
Taqueria names can reference everything from a place to a family. Look for terms that refer to processes (Nixta Taqueria, in Austin, nixtamalizes its corn); technique (El Tizoncito, in Dallas, is named after charcoal used for trompos); equipment (Discada, in Austin, uses a disco, also known as a cowboy wok); or regionality (El Oaxaqueño, in Arlington, emphasizes food from Oaxaca).
An assortment of Cajun-Mex offerings, at EaDeaux's Cajun Cocina, in Houston.
Photograph by Jody Horton
Offerings including boudin tacos and gumbo at EaDeaux’s Cajun Cocina, in Houston.
Cajun-Mex
A hybrid of the indigenous cuisine of Acadian Louisiana and Tex-Mex.
An assortment of Cajun-Mex offerings, at EaDeaux's Cajun Cocina, in Houston.
Photograph by Jody Horton
Offerings including boudin tacos and gumbo at EaDeaux’s Cajun Cocina, in Houston.
Texas’s most diverse city, Houston is home to many burgeoning taco styles, including Cajun-Mex, which finds its apex at EaDeaux’s Cajun Cocina (2919 Leeland, 713-818-6897), a food truck stationed at EaDo’s Hand Car Wash in the East Downtown neighborhood. Both businesses are owned by husband and wife Jason and Starr Harry. The truck peddles large flour tortillas packed with gumbo or rice-speckled boudin. Each of EaDeaux’s tacos is topped with a quick shot of Mexican cheese blend and a slice of green bell pepper and punctuated with pico de gallo. The garnishes ratchet up the taco’s already punchy flavors.
FlourPower
The flour tortilla, popular in the Texas borderlands, is finally getting the respect it deserves in the rest of the state, where corn has long been considered the only true Mexican tortilla. But the flour tortilla is Mexican too: it originated in northern Mexican states, including Sonora, where wheat has been a thriving crop since it was introduced by Spanish explorers more than five hundred years ago. Here are a few flour facts to chew on.
Sizing Things Up
In Brownsville, flour tortillas can be intimidatingly large, especially when it comes to the region’s hearty breakfast tacos—often referred to as “tortillas de harina” (yes, that literally means “flour tortillas”)—which feature flaky, lard-laced envelopes that can be even bigger than the plate on which they’re served. When you order a breakfast taco in San Antonio or Austin, it’s likely to come on a smaller, compact disc between five and six inches wide.
Delicate Subject
Sonoran-style tortillas are often considered the flour staple. Buttery-rich, they consist only of flour, water, fat, and salt; the lack of a leavening agent leaves them paper-thin. They can be stretched large for burritos and are common in far West Texas and in the Dallas area, where many taquerias rely on the same provider, Tortilleria La Norteña, whose owner hails from Sonora.
Rising Up
The most common kind of flour tortilla is the Tex-Mex variety, which is thicker and heftier than its Sonoran-style siblings. That’s because they use baking powder, which leads to a chewier and puffier texture. These tortillas can hold substantial fillings, from fajita and whole, bone-in pork chops to brisket topped with refried beans, a fried egg, salsa, and cheese. You’ll find them throughout the state, especially in Central Texas and Houston.
Just Say ¡No!
You might be tempted to reach for the mass-produced tortillas sold at some grocery stores, but commercial versions—those desiccated, quickly hardening discs with saggy pockets—should be avoided at all costs. The state is dotted with local tortillerias producing fresh flour tortillas. Even H-E-B makes its own.
Above: Smoked beef tallow-infused flour tortillas from Flores Tortillas, in Whitney.
Photograph by Chelsea Kyle
The San Antonio Taco Trail
The carnitas platter at Carnitas Lonja, in San Antonio.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
The build-your-own carnitas taco platter at Carnitas Lonja, in San Antonio.
- Carnitas Don Raúl, in San Antonio.
- Paprika, in Austin.
Carnitas
Pork slowly braised in its own fat.
The carnitas platter at Carnitas Lonja, in San Antonio.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
The build-your-own carnitas taco platter at Carnitas Lonja, in San Antonio.
- Carnitas Don Raúl, in San Antonio.
- Paprika, in Austin.
Old-school carnitas (“little meats”)—in which the cuts of pork, including cueritos (skin), shoulder, and butt, are braised in their own lard in a cazo, a large pot with a wide rim and narrow bottom—are a rare treat. You’ll find them at San Antonio’s Carnitas Don Raúl (2202 Broadway, 210-427-3202), the stateside outpost of the longtime favorite in Morelia, Mexico. These carnitas tacos taste just like the original. The best of the available menu options is the surtida, a salty mix of all the cuts, offering crunchy, soft, and slick textures in doubled-up corn tortillas. Many U.S. restaurants prepare the dish in a stovetop pot or pan filled with manteca (semisolid pork fat) that braises the pork for hours. At San Antonio’s Carnitas Lonja (1107 Roosevelt Ave, 210-455-2105), Morelia native Alejandro Paredes makes his signature dish in large hotel pans. The pork is silky, slightly sweet, and served by the pound for tacos. In Austin, Margarito Pérez, who owns the Paprika food truck (6519 N. Lamar Blvd, 512-716-5873), uses innovation spurred by limited space to make his carnitas. He cooks pork sous vide for at least twelve hours to create juicy threads of meat and tops it with nutty, prickly salsa macha.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
Carnitas Lonja, San Antonio
Standing Out With One Magical Dish
When Alejandro Paredes opened Carnitas Lonja in south San Antonio in the spring of 2017, it was a shock to the local culinary scene. Even though the city is packed with taco joints, it didn’t have anything like this tiny taqueria, which focused almost exclusively on carnitas. Locals lined up for the luscious, slow-cooked pork topped with crispy chicharrón and served on fragrant house-made corn tortillas. National accolades started pouring in.
For Paredes, it was a long road to open the restaurant, whose name translates to “love handle carnitas." He didn’t start out seeking to be a standard bearer of traditional Mexican cuisine, but Paredes has been cooking almost his whole life. He traces his passion for food back to his upbringing in Morelia, Mexico. “I started cooking in the house, cooking the rice, and helping out in the kitchen,” he says. When he was about eighteen, he was captivated by the Portugal episode of Anthony Bourdain’s TV show A Cook’s Tour. “Me and my cousin . . . were watching that episode, and we were like, ‘Man, can you imagine doing all this?’ ” he recalls.
Chef-driven
Creative tacos that defy traditional boundaries and incorporate unusual ingredients and flavor combinations; they’re often sold at a higher price but are worth it when done with integrity.
The enchilada potosina taco at Nixta Taqueria, in Austin.
- Resident Taqueria, in Dallas.
- José, in Dallas.
Where to Start
Without a great tortilla, you can’t have a great taco. Look for places that make their own tortillas. Keep in mind that many make flour or corn, but not both. Always choose whatever is house-made. The next best bet is to choose a taqueria, truck, or restaurant that sources its tortillas from a local tortilleria, such as San Antonio Colonial, or Tatemó, out of Houston. The state has lots of good ones.
Although some tacos in this category can be over-the-top or self-indulgent (think lobster salad with micro celery and edible gold flakes on a hibiscus corn tortilla), there are exceptions to be found across the state. Dallas’s Resident Taqueria (9661 Audelia Rd, 972-685-5280) offers a caramelized cauliflower taco, with twists of kale and a sprinkle of pepitas that’s finished with a drizzle of fragrant lemon-epazote crema. At another Dallas restaurant, José (4931 W. Lovers Ln, 214-891-5673), executive chef Anastacia Quiñones-Pittman surprises guests with the rotating Tacos de Tacha special (Tacha was her childhood nickname). One day, AQ, as she is known, might serve up fried redfish and black beans with a habanero ash aioli on a refreshing cilantro corn tortilla. The next day, she might offer coconut-battered queso asadero with pepita pesto on a mild habanero corn tortilla flavored with carrot and coconut.
In Austin, Sara Mardanbigi and chef Edgar Rico, the owners of Nixta Taqueria (2512 E. Twelfth, 512-551-3855), dole out a delightful regular menu and daily specials featuring innovative homages to their diverse backgrounds—Rico’s family comes from San Luis Potosí, Mexico; Mardanbigi’s heritage is Iranian—while respecting Mexican traditions. The standout of their everyday menu is Rico’s version of the enchilada potosina, an open-faced, guajillo-salsa-infused tortilla topped with a swoosh of duck-fat refried beans, sweet and smooth, and heavy-handed plops of chorizo-potato puree. A pyramid of striking purple cabbage draped in roasted salsa roja and crumbles of queso enchilada, an imported chile-rubbed aged cow’s milk cheese, caps the taco. The tortillas are made in-house from kernels that are soaked and ground into masa. This process, about 3,500 years old, is called nixtamalization, from the Aztec word “nixtamalli.”
Where to Start
Without a great tortilla, you can’t have a great taco. Look for places that make their own tortillas. Keep in mind that many make flour or corn, but not both. Always choose whatever is house-made. The next best bet is to choose a taqueria, truck, or restaurant that sources its tortillas from a local tortilleria, such as San Antonio Colonial, or Tatemó, out of Houston. The state has lots of good ones.
Costra
Taking its name from the Spanish word for “scab” or “crust,” the costra-style taco is a popular after-bar snack in Mexico City that’s becoming more popular in Texas. Chilangos Tacos (10777 Harry Hines Blvd, 214-782-9772), in Dallas, will enfold any of its flour-tortilla tacos in a casing of fried cheese upon request, but the classic choice is pork sliced from the trompo. At the Houston pop-up Eddie O’s Texas Barbecue (713-659-9961), grilled Monterey Jack is the tortilla (a tortilla de queso), nestling pecan-smoked brisket as well as pickled carrot, whose flavor and bite balance the powerful salty and peppery elements of the cheese and beef. In Austin, La Tunita 512 (2400 Burleson Rd, 512-679-0708) tweaks the style by folding birria de res into a griddled cheese shell and inserting it inside a corn tortilla for dunking in consommé. Urban Taco (5321 E. Mockingbird Ln, 214-823-4723), in Dallas, puts the griddled cheese on the exterior of a house-made corn tortilla for its tacos a la Tuma. In this case, the cheese is one-year-aged Spanish manchego. Between the layer of cheese and the nixtamalized corn tortilla are a couple slices of jalapeño; filled with the meat of your choice (go for the carnitas), the whole taco is given a quick habanero salsa bath.
A taco in which the tortilla is replaced by, encased in, or filled with griddled cheese.
The carnitas a la Tuma at Urban Taco, in Dallas.
- Chilangos Tacos, in Dallas.
- Eddie O’s Texas Barbecue, in Houston.
- La Tunita 512, in Austin.
Taking its name from the Spanish word for “scab” or “crust,” the costra-style taco is a popular after-bar snack in Mexico City that’s becoming more popular in Texas. Chilangos Tacos (10777 Harry Hines Blvd, 214-782-9772), in Dallas, will enfold any of its flour-tortilla tacos in a casing of fried cheese upon request, but the classic choice is pork sliced from the trompo. At the Houston pop-up Eddie O’s Texas Barbecue (713-659-9961), grilled Monterey Jack is the tortilla (a tortilla de queso), nestling pecan-smoked brisket as well as pickled carrot, whose flavor and bite balance the powerful salty and peppery elements of the cheese and beef. In Austin, La Tunita 512 (2400 Burleson Rd, 512-679-0708) tweaks the style by folding birria de res into a griddled cheese shell and inserting it inside a corn tortilla for dunking in consommé. Urban Taco (5321 E. Mockingbird Ln, 214-823-4723), in Dallas, puts the griddled cheese on the exterior of a house-made corn tortilla for its tacos a la Tuma. In this case, the cheese is one-year-aged Spanish manchego. Between the layer of cheese and the nixtamalized corn tortilla are a couple slices of jalapeño; filled with the meat of your choice (go for the carnitas), the whole taco is given a quick habanero salsa bath.
Pastry chef Derrick Flynn holds a choco taco at Suerte, in Austin.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
Dessert
A tortilla-wrapped sweet; fillings range from ice cream and mousse to fresh fruit.
The choco taco at Suerte, in Austin.
- Smoke Crafters, in Mission.
- Tarascos Ice Cream, in Houston.
Like Korean tacos, the dessert variety has quickly claimed a hold on Texans’ taste buds. The most common version consists of a waffle cone shell jammed with ice cream or sweets, like the from-scratch pecan pie taco at Smoke Crafters (5924 Texas Hwy 107, 956-246-1008), in Mission. Suerte (1800 E. Sixth; 512-953-0092), in Austin, offers a sophisticated choco taco that takes pastry chef Derrick Flynn two days to prepare. It begins with nixtamalized red masa mixed with sugar, cocoa powder, and leavening agents to help keep the tortilla extra crisp when frozen. Roasted-peanut caramel is piped into the bottom of the U-shaped shells, which are filled with cinnamon-mascarpone mousse and then frozen. Later, it all gets dipped in milk chocolate that hardens instantly (think Magic Shell) and is covered with chopped roasted peanuts. I haven’t encountered a better choco taco. For a different take, try the fruit taco at Houston’s Tarascos Ice Cream (13932 Westheimer Rd, 281-584-9696). A sugar-dusted tamarind tortilla imported from the Michoacán capital of Morelia is packed with chunks of mango, pineapple, and cucumber as well as julienned jicama and plump Japanese peanuts (a Mexican snack). Drizzles of spicy-sour chamoy syrup, a pinch of Tajín seasoning, and a lime wedge complete the dish.
The Rio Grande Valley Taco Trail
Guisados
Tacos filled with homestyle, slow-cooked casseroles, stews, and braises, especially those typically eaten from morning to midday.
The carne guisada breakfast taco at Ms. G’s Tacos N’ More, in McAllen.
- Mi Tradición Bakery, in Austin.
- Del Sur Taco, in Dallas.
- Flores Meat Market & Restaurant, in El Paso.
Salsa Sampler
Always ask for salsa recommendations, and don’t be afraid to experiment. You might come away surprised by the subtlety of a bright- mango-habanero; it’s not as hot as you might think. Then there’s the nutty, dark mahogany of salsa macha. Alcohol-infused salsa borracha might have you begging for the recipe.
This wide-ranging category includes fillings as simple as an eggs and chorizo mixture or as complicated as mole, chile relleno, or birria, all served on tortillas. The tacos often get a scoop of rice to soak up extra sauce from the fillings—thus the tacos de arroz at Austin’s Mi Tradición Bakery (two locations, 512-445-9120), perhaps the best of which is a blue-corn tortilla covered in a layer of yellow rice and topped with a large breaded and fried cheese-stuffed chile relleno. Also remarkable is the ever-changing chile relleno taco at Dallas’s Del Sur Taco (720 E. Jefferson Blvd, 972-982-0004), a green chile that is opened lengthwise and usually filled with queso panela and topped with pomegranate seeds. The Tex-Mex standard carne guisada, rich and beefy, makes for a filling morning meal at McAllen’s Ms. G’s Tacos N’ More (2263 Pecan Blvd, 956-668-8226). The most unusual find for many Texans is likely the colitas de pavo, a far West Texas borderlands favorite of fried turkey tails with just enough fat to soften them. Our favorite is served at Flores Meat Market & Restaurant (1781 N. Zaragoza Rd, 915-857-6666), in El Paso.
Salsa Sampler
Always ask for salsa recommendations, and don’t be afraid to experiment. You might come away surprised by the subtlety of a bright- mango-habanero; it’s not as hot as you might think. Then there’s the nutty, dark mahogany of salsa macha. Alcohol-infused salsa borracha might have you begging for the recipe.
Al pastor and bistec mini tacos at Taquitos West Ave., in San Antonio.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
Mini
Tacos served on small tortillas, styled after the tiny, inexpensive Mexican street snacks.
Al pastor and bistec mini tacos at Taquitos West Ave., in San Antonio.
- Cuantos Tacos, in Austin.
- Taqueria Tio Nacho, in Georgetown.
- Sabor Tapatio, in Austin.
- El Tizoncito, in Dallas.
Popularly known as “street tacos”—a misnomer if the tacos aren’t ordered from a street stand or sidewalk cart—mini tacos are served on three- to five-inch tortillas and usually topped with a single, traditional meat and a simple garnish, such as onions and cilantro. Cuantos Tacos (1108 E. Twelfth, 512-903-3918), in Austin, serves such a taco with luscious, unchopped lengua (beef tongue) (Watch the "On the Taco Trail" video with Cuantos here). Taquitos West Ave. (2818 West Ave, 210-525-9888), in San Antonio, offers al pastor and soft chopped bistec. Both taquerias use four-inch nixtamalized corn tortillas. Other taquerias specializing in mini tacos include Georgetown’s Taqueria Tio Nacho (112 Woodmont Dr, 512-831-1581), a whimsical joint inside a convenience store that serves sweet carnitas with crunch; Austin’s Sabor Tapatio food truck (5604 S. Congress Ave, 512-483-4241), where the campechano features playful textures of beef and chorizo; and El Tizoncito (multiple locations), in Dallas, where the smart choice is the al pastor.
The Houston Taco Trail
Photograph by Henry Craver
Elemi, El Paso
Keeping Tortilla Traditions Alive
As a teenager, Emiliano Marentes worked in the tortillerias of his native El Paso, delivering tortillas to restaurants. But the corn tortillas he ate at home were made in Cuidad Juárez, on the other side of the Rio Grande. “It was just a way better tortilla,” recalls Marentes. Relatives from Mexico—especially his uncle—would regularly bring fresh tortillas to Marentes’s mother, and sometimes he and his mom would cross the border to pick up their own. His early introduction to restaurant kitchens inspired him to pursue a career as a chef in San Antonio, but memories of those tortillas drew Marentes back to El Paso two years ago to open Elemi, a modern Mexican restaurant built on the country’s culinary traditions.
“We really wanted to…offer something that was not available here,” Marentes says about the decision he and his wife, Kristal, made to move back to their hometown. In the River City, Marentes was heading up the kitchen of the Hoppy Monk, a craft beer pub that originated in El Paso in 2010 and later expanded to San Antonio. But the couple committed to their vision and in late 2018, they opened Elemi downtown. Like the Juárez tortillerias, Elemi uses the centuries-old practice of nixtamalization, in which corn is cooked, soaked, and ground into masa. The resulting corn tortillas are the foundation of the taco-focused restaurant, which has only eight tables inside, creating an irresistible intimacy. “That was done on purpose,” says Marentes. It was Kristal's idea to call it Elemi—“El Emi” is her nickname for Emiliano.
The fried cauliflower taco at Elemi, in El Paso.
Photograph by Henry Craver
The fried cauliflower taco at Elemi, in El Paso.
- Revolver Taco Lounge, in Dallas.
- Comedor, in Austin.
Modernist Mexican
Like chef-driven tacos, this category is chock-full of creativity. However, the style is characterized more by contemporary interpretations of ancient and artisanal techniques.
The fried cauliflower taco at Elemi, in El Paso.
Photograph by Henry Craver
The fried cauliflower taco at Elemi, in El Paso.
- Revolver Taco Lounge, in Dallas.
- Comedor, in Austin.
The Caro Quintero No. 1, at Dallas’s Revolver Taco Lounge, is a modernist gourmet taco bound in tradition. It’s deceptively simple, combining high-quality ingredients with artisanal techniques. At first glance, the compilation of ground wagyu carne asada, green chorizo, and frijoles de la olla (whole, pale-hued beans) on a handmade corn tortilla seems to be a gussied-up beast of a taco. But these are all top-tier ingredients, some of which (like the chorizo) are house-made; the creativity shines in the unusual flavor pairings. It’s sweet and salty, with steak that is soft but has enough pushback for a good chew. Austin’s Comedor (501 Colorado, 512-499-0977), Texas Monthly’s best new restaurant of 2020, offers roasted bone marrow served as herb-crusted cross-sectioned femurs on a bed of Mexican mixed greens called quelites with a basket of fresh corn tortillas. The corn, made from ever-changing heirloom varieties sourced from Mexico City–based purveyor Tamoa, is nixtamalized in-house. El Paso is the home of Elemi (313 N. Kansas, 915-532-2090), a nearly two-year-old eatery that walks the line between traditional fillings and new applications to best showcase the roots of Mexican food. Examples include the marinated pato (duck) al pastor cooked over a small Japanese wood-fired grill and the fried cauliflower dressed in a from-scratch tawny almond mole atop a slightly spongy tortilla made, like all the tortillas here, with nixtamalized corn.
Pork-Beef-Chicken (PBC)
Tacos built around one or more of these three basic, widely available ingredients.
The pork and beef discada taco at Discada, in Austin.
- Tlahco Mexican Kitchen, in San Antonio.
- Taqueria Poblana, in Bryan.
- Salsa Limón, in Dallas-Fort Worth.
- El Come Taco, in Dallas.
Tacos Illustrated
Although taquerias and restaurants sometimes get splashy with their exteriors to attract customers, the colorful designs can also steer you toward what to order. The owner might hand-paint the house specialties and other details on the walls or windows. Tip: always look for “Tortillas hechas a mano” (handmade tortillas).
These three fillings are staples of every run-of-the-mill taco spot and nondescript taco truck. Pork is usually al pastor or comes in the form of red chorizo. Beef is typically carne asada or bistec, and chicken is usually nothing more than grilled poultry or, at best, chipotle-stewed tinga. However, there are taquerias that take PBC to the next level. The Discada food truck (1319 Rosewood Ave, 512-945-7577), in Austin, serves just one type of taco: the northern Mexican regional specialty that the truck is named for. “Discada” refers to a mixed-meat preparation (in Discada’s case, it’s pork and beef) cooked for hours in a disco, a northern Mexican implement sometimes called a cowboy wok, until it’s reduced to a juicy filling that balances sweet, acidic, and spicy flavors. Tlahco Mexican Kitchen (6702 San Pedro Ave, 210-455-0135), in San Antonio, offers the ultimate comfort food with its bean and chicharrón taco. In Bryan, Taqueria Poblana (3200 Boonville Rd, 979-599-2420) doles out mouth-coating crumbles of beef chorizo served alongside pastor from a trompo, in a building attached to a gas station. In the Dallas/Fort Worth area, Salsa Limón (multiple locations) shells out its trademark El Capitán, a toasted flour tortilla with melted Oaxaca-Jack cheese encapsulating a filling of choice (I prefer their charred carne asada) and topped with pickled cabbage, raw onion, and cilantro; meanwhile, El Come Taco (2513 N. Fitzhugh Ave, 214-821-3738) specializes in Mexico City standards such as gentle and lean cabeza and suadero with a crisped exterior and soft interior.
Tacos Illustrated
Although taquerias and restaurants sometimes get splashy with their exteriors to attract customers, the colorful designs can also steer you toward what to order. The owner might hand-paint the house specialties and other details on the walls or windows. Tip: always look for “Tortillas hechas a mano” (handmade tortillas).
Puffy
This regional fried taco is surprisingly hard to find beyond South Texas, maybe because it’s delicate and has to be made just right. Its structural integrity has a brief half-life, so gobble the taco up as fast as you can before it turns to mush. It should have a glistening but not oily exterior that is also crunchy and flaky, and the interior should be soft and chewy. The shell should feel light; a perfect puffy taco gives the impression that it might float away. In selecting a filling, it’s best to go traditional. At Ray’s Drive Inn (822 SW Nineteenth, 210-432-7171), in San Antonio, and Caro’s Restaurant (607 W. Second, 956-487-2255), in Rio Grande City—two icons of puffy tacos—go for the finely ground beef. At Henry’s Puffy Tacos Express (3202 W. Woodlawn Ave, 210-433-7833), in San Antonio, opt for the juicy shredded chicken.
Deep-fried corn tortillas that are crimped into a U-shape as they inflate.
The ground-beef-stuffed puffy taco at Ray’s Drive Inn, in San Antonio.
- Caro’s Restaurant, in Rio Grande City.
- Henry's Puffy Tacos Express, in San Antonio.
This regional fried taco is surprisingly hard to find beyond South Texas, maybe because it’s delicate and has to be made just right. Its structural integrity has a brief half-life, so gobble the taco up as fast as you can before it turns to mush. It should have a glistening but not oily exterior that is also crunchy and flaky, and the interior should be soft and chewy. The shell should feel light; a perfect puffy taco gives the impression that it might float away. In selecting a filling, it’s best to go traditional. At Ray’s Drive Inn (822 SW Nineteenth, 210-432-7171), in San Antonio, and Caro’s Restaurant (607 W. Second, 956-487-2255), in Rio Grande City—two icons of puffy tacos—go for the finely ground beef. At Henry’s Puffy Tacos Express (3202 W. Woodlawn Ave, 210-433-7833), in San Antonio, opt for the juicy shredded chicken.
The El Paso Taco Trail
The tacos de camerón at Maskaras Mexican Grill, in Dallas.
Photograph by Brittany Conerly
Seafood
Fish, shrimp, or any other type of seafood in a tortilla.
The tacos de camarón at Maskaras Mexican Grill, in Dallas.
- Mariscos del Puerto, in San Antonio.
- Taco y Vino, in Dallas.
- Revolver Taco Lounge, in Dallas.
Probably the best-known taco in this broad category is the iconic Baja style of grilled or battered and fried fish topped with a flurry of cabbage and squiggles of chipotle mayo. You’ll find a twist on this classic at San Antonio’s Mariscos del Puerto (10430 Culebra Rd, 210-637-9404), which uses carrots and jicama in place of cabbage; the restaurant plays freely with the ocean’s bounty in its other selections as well. A blackened version of the Baja, using Mississippi catfish, is found in Dallas at Taco y Vino (213 W. Eighth, 469-372-0022), a wine-and-taco-pairing restaurant. Another iconic seafood option is the taco de camarón estilo San Juan de los Lagos, ground shrimp folded into a tortilla that is then fried and topped with a loose, tomato-based salsa. It hails from Jalisco’s town of the same name, and in Texas it can be found masterfully prepared at Dallas’s Maskaras Mexican Grill—chile freaks can request the extra-spicy salsa for face-scratching fire. Across the Trinity River, Revolver Taco Lounge has long played with seafood presentations, including chef-owner Regino Rojas’s homage to Mexico’s Isla Holbox, off the Yucatán Peninsula. His Holboxqueño is a pyramid of lobster sprinkled with sea beans (a salt-tolerant plant that commonly grows near tropical beaches) and pineapple pico and capped with a lone goldenberry.
Let'sSalsa!
“Red or green?” Although there’s nothing wrong with topping your taco with a salsa roja or a salsa verde, those terms refer only to the hue. They tell you nothing of the chile-heat level or the ingredients. Expand your salsa world with these standouts.
Creamy Jalapeño Salsa
- Consistency:
- smooth and velvety
- Ingredients:
- jalapeño, salt, garlic, canola oil
- Heat Level:
- addictively hot
- Pairings:
- bean and cheese tacos
- Pictured:
- the Salsa Doña from Tacodeli
Roasted Tomatillo-Poblano Salsa
- Consistency:
- medium body with subtle texture
- Ingredients:
- tomatillo, onion, poblano, jalapeño
- Heat Level:
- generally mild
- Pairings:
- carnitas or barbacoa tacos
- Pictured:
- roasted tomatillo-poblano salsa from Discada
Salsa Macha
- Consistency:
- chunky or pastelike
- Ingredients:
- nuts, chiles de morita, garlic, and oil
- Heat Level:
- fiery
- Pairings:
- carnitas, suadero, and birria tacos
- Pictured:
- salsa macha from Paprika
Salsa De Chile De Árbol
- Consistency:
- smooth but hearty
- Ingredients:
- árbol chile, salt, onion, tomato
- Heat Level:
- zesty to hot
- Pairings:
- tacos de trompo or bistec
- Pictured:
- salsa de chile de árbol from Paprika
Salsa De Habanero
- Consistency:
- chunky to creamy
- Ingredients:
- habanero chile and any variation of fruits, vegetables, and herbs, including onion, citrus, and cilantro.
- Heat Level:
- usually throat-scratchingly hot
- Pairings:
- grilled salmon or chicken tacos
- Pictured:
- the salsa de habanero from Discada
Photograph by Chelsea Kyle
Pico De Gallo
- Consistency:
- chunky
- Ingredients:
- tomato, onion, cilantro, and jalapeño or serrano
- Heat Level:
- varies
- Pairings:
- carne asada (including fajitas), any mini taco
Salsa De Aguacate
- Consistency:
- runny to silky
- Ingredients:
- avocado, cream, garlic, tomatillo, serrano, poblano
- Heat Level:
- mild
- Pairings:
- tinga de pollo, cabeza
Salsa Molcajete
- Consistency:
- thick and chunky
- Ingredients:
- hand-ground tomato, onions, garlic, and chiles such as guajillo
- Heat Level:
- medium to hot
- Pairings:
- barbacoa, fish, lamb
Salsa Borracha
- Consistency:
- thick and shimmering
- Ingredients:
- pasilla or ancho chiles, onion, garlic, alcohol (typically beer, tequila and/or Pulque), grated white cheese
- Heat Level:
- medium
- Pairings:
- barbacoa, lamb
Salsa De Chile Guajillo
- Consistency:
- thin to mildly thick
- Ingredients:
- guajillo, ancho, onions, garlic, cilantro
- Heat Level:
- mild
- Pairings:
- chicharrones, carnitas
Salsa De Chile Morita
- Consistency:
- smooth
- Ingredients:
- chiles de morita, garlic, salt, oil
- Heat Level:
- prickly but not too spicy
- Pairings:
- cabeza, tacos al pastor, nopales, carne asada
Salsa Tatemada
- Consistency:
- thick
- Ingredients:
- charred tomato, chiles, onion, cilantro
- Heat Level:
- varies
- Pairings:
- lengua, birria
Salsa Cacahuate
- Consistency:
- smooth
- Ingredients:
- peanuts, garlic, onion, habanero or ancho chile, pasilla, árbol, or chile costeño
- Heat Level:
- hiccup-inducing hot
- Pairings:
- breakfast tacos, especially chorizo and eggs
Tacos Dorados
The earliest taco recipes printed in the United States required frying the tortillas. More than a century later, tacos dorados (literally “golden tacos”) continue to be intensely popular. There are myriad examples, including rolled taquitos, flautas, and the aforementioned San Antonio–style puffy taco (which is distinctive enough that it got its own category in this guide).
Among the best examples in the state are the tacos dorados and flautas at Maskaras Mexican Grill, which piles them high with queso fresco, crema, lettuce, and an extra topping such as cuerito (curls of pickled pig skin). Also intoxicating are the thin rolled tacos slathered in a mild emerald-green salsa at the Oaxacan-inspired El Naranjo (2717 S. Lamar Blvd, 512-520-5750), in Austin. The Capital City is also home to the El Perrito trailer (1413 Webberville Rd), which is inspired by El Paso’s iconic rolled tacos. Officially, they’re taquitos ahogados or flautas ahogadas, fried and bathed in a thin tomato-based salsa roja and sprinkled with cheese. They’re bursting with flavor, especially with a ping of tartness from the by-request salsa verde. Tacoholics (1613 N. Zaragoza Rd, 915-929-2592), in El Paso, uses only salsa verde for its flautas ahogadas.
Lucy’s Restaurant (multiple locations), also in El Paso, takes a different tack with its Tacos Antonia, crispy taco shells with arched edges dusted orange and red from Lawry’s seasoning and filled with shredded machaca, reconstituted northern Mexican–style salted dried beef, and topped with grated Muenster cheese. Then there is the namesake specialty of Manuel’s Crispy Tacos (1404 E. Second, 432-333-2751), in Odessa. The tacos dorados at this Permian Basin institution, opened in 1946, look like miniature taco salads, filled with ground beef, tomato, and a flurry of mixed cheeses—it’s simply a joyful, tasty reminder of old-school Tex-Mex.
Fried tacos that can include taquitos and flautas.
The Manuel taco at Manuel’s Crispy Tacos, in Odessa.
- Maskaras Mexican Grill, in Dallas.
- El Naranjo, in Austin.
- El Perrito, in Austin.
- Tacoholics, in El Paso.
- Lucy’s Restaurant, in El Paso.
The earliest taco recipes printed in the United States required frying the tortillas. More than a century later, tacos dorados (literally “golden tacos”) continue to be intensely popular. There are myriad examples, including rolled taquitos, flautas, and the aforementioned San Antonio–style puffy taco (which is distinctive enough that it got its own category in this guide).
Among the best examples in the state are the tacos dorados and flautas at Maskaras Mexican Grill, which piles them high with queso fresco, crema, lettuce, and an extra topping such as cuerito (curls of pickled pig skin). Also intoxicating are the thin rolled tacos slathered in a mild emerald-green salsa at the Oaxacan-inspired El Naranjo (2717 S. Lamar Blvd, 512-520-5750), in Austin. The Capital City is also home to the El Perrito trailer (1413 Webberville Rd), which is inspired by El Paso’s iconic rolled tacos. Officially, they’re taquitos ahogados or flautas ahogadas, fried and bathed in a thin tomato-based salsa roja and sprinkled with cheese. They’re bursting with flavor, especially with a ping of tartness from the by-request salsa verde. Tacoholics (1613 N. Zaragoza Rd, 915-929-2592), in El Paso, uses only salsa verde for its flautas ahogadas.
Lucy’s Restaurant (multiple locations), also in El Paso, takes a different tack with its Tacos Antonia, crispy taco shells with arched edges dusted orange and red from Lawry’s seasoning and filled with shredded machaca, reconstituted northern Mexican–style salted dried beef, and topped with grated Muenster cheese. Then there is the namesake specialty of Manuel’s Crispy Tacos (1404 E. Second, 432-333-2751), in Odessa. The tacos dorados at this Permian Basin institution, opened in 1946, look like miniature taco salads, filled with ground beef, tomato, and a flurry of mixed cheeses—it’s simply a joyful, tasty reminder of old-school Tex-Mex.
The tacos estilo Matamoros at El Ultimo Taco Taqueria, in Brownsville.
Photograph by Brenda Bazán
The bistec estilo Matamoros at El Ultimo Taco Taqueria, in Brownsville.
- Tacos Pkchü, in Brownsville.
- Cuantos Tacos, in Austin.
- Raspas El Payasito, in Bryan.
Tacos Estilo Matamoros
A beef and cheese taco that originated in the border town of Matamoros, Mexico.
The tacos estilo Matamoros at El Ultimo Taco Taqueria, in Brownsville.
Photograph by Brenda Bazán
The bistec estilo Matamoros at El Ultimo Taco Taqueria, in Brownsville.
- Tacos Pkchü, in Brownsville.
- Cuantos Tacos, in Austin.
- Raspas El Payasito, in Bryan.
A nod to the Rio Grande Valley’s cattle ranching heritage, tacos estilo Matamoros are made up of small, oily corn tortillas, a beef filling such as bistec or mollejas (beef sweetbreads), and crumbled or shredded queso fresco, and they usually come three to five in an order. Although they are wildly popular in Brownsville, they get their name from the sister city of Matamoros, where El Último Taco: Los Originales claims to have invented the style. Rolando Curiel, the owner of Brownsville’s El Ultimo Taco Taqueria (938 N. Expwy, 956-554-7663), which has no relation to the Matamoros taqueria, will tell you that you can’t know his hometown without knowing the original El Último. He pays his respects with small, meat-crammed tacos that are a shining example of local taco foodways. But equally excellent is the soft, chopped bistec variety at Tacos Pkchü (5727 Southmost Blvd, 956-579-7983), a Brownsville trailer that splits its time between the 77 Flea Market and a lot toward the end of Southmost Boulevard. Tacos estilo Matamoros have at last moved north of the Valley; pitch-perfect examples can be found on Thursdays at Austin’s Cuantos Tacos food truck and daily at Bryan’s Raspas El Payasito (1005 S. Coulter Dr, 979-823-8682).
Pork taco de trompo at La Macro, in Houston.
Photograph by Jody Horton
Trompo
Meat, usually pork, prepared on a trompo, a vertical rotisserie.
Pork taco de trompo at La Macro, in Houston.
- Vaquero Taquero, in Austin.
- Taqueria Poblana, in Bryan.
- Trompo, in Dallas.
There are several kinds of trompo tacos, but the original is the taco árabe (Arab). Thought to have been adapted from the shawarma—traditionally, lamb cooked on a vertical rotisserie—brought by Lebanese and Iraqi immigrants to Puebla, Mexico, in the early twentieth century, the taco árabe contains seasoned pork sliced from a vertical spit (trompo is Spanish for “spinning top”) and served on a pita-like flour tortilla dressed with chipotle salsa. If traditional examples of tacos árabes exist in Texas, I have yet to find them. However, the next evolution, Mexico City’s iconic tacos al pastor, has examples aplenty. Said to have been invented in the sixties, tacos al pastor feature pork, cooked on a trompo or spit, that’s often topped with cilantro, onions, and pineapple on a corn tortilla. Among the most notable in Texas are al pastor tacos with patches of char at Vaquero Taquero (104 E. 31st, 512-366-5578), in Austin, and the spindle-shaped al pastor at Taqueria Poblana (3200 Boonville Rd, 979-599-2420), in Bryan.
There is also a variation referred to simply as taco de trompo, which is pork seasoned usually with a paprika-heavy marinade and finished off on a griddle. Hailing from Nuevo León, the taco is abundant in Houston and Dallas, which have large populations from Nuevo León’s capital, Monterrey. In the Bayou City, La Macro (3903 Fulton, 832-618-4611) doles out its nonpaprika version and other dishes using trompo meat. In Dallas, among the best is Trompo (407 W. Tenth, 972-809-7950), in the heavily Monterreyan Oak Cliff neighborhood, which uses locally sourced flour tortillas to cradle melted white cheese, trompo pork, and bistec. Pour the zingy salsa de chile de árbol on the filling for a taste of el Norte.
Photograph by Brittany Conerly
Revolver Taco Lounge, Dallas
Taking Wild Creative Risks Pays Off
The main plaza in Yurécaro, Mexico, gets crowded early each morning, as people rush to shop at the nearby mercado and stroll the stalls that spill out onto adjacent streets. Last November, I traveled to this small mountain town in the western Mexican state of Michoacán with Regino “Gino” Rojas, who grew up in Yurécaro. He now lives in Dallas, where he runs Revolver Taco Lounge, one of Texas’s most creative modernist taquerias. For several years, Rojas had told me that in order to truly understand his cooking, we needed to visit his hometown.
That’s how we found ourselves standing before a wood and metal taco cart on a side street in Yurécaro. A man with a salt-and-pepper mustache and a white apron bearing the name Birrieria Don Chano stood behind the cart, which was equipped with a blue insulated cooler, a scale, a round butcher block, and a pot full of a runny umber salsa that shimmers in the light. An oblong metal oven off to one side held stewed birria de cabrito (milk-fed kid goat), some of it still on the bone. Every time a customer ordered cabrito by the pound or in a taco, the man—Don Chano’s grandson—reached into the oven to pull out a hunk of meat and chop it into chunks and ragged threads. As a taco, the cabrito is plopped onto doubled-up corn tortillas and drowned in the pungent umber salsa. It’s served on the colorful plastic plates typical of puestos (carts and street stalls) across Mexico.
Vegetarian / Vegan
One of the few upsides to 2020 has been the rise of vegan and vegetarian tacos. Historically, Mexican food was heavy on vegetables—meat is expensive. Guisados are rife with veggie options, such as cauliflower fritters. Rellenas, a Saturdays-only, Instagram-based vegan pop-up along Northwest Highway in Dallas, opens ordering on Monday and is usually sold out by Friday. The jackfruit birria taco seems to be the big draw. In Fort Worth, Mariachi’s Dine-In (301 S. Sylvania Ave, 682-760-9606) offers a separate menu of vegan alternatives to the basic PBC fillings, including signature tacos such as the Baja-style banana flower taco, which has an herbaceous flavor and meat-like texture. Lick It Up started as a food truck in El Paso in 2017 and in 2020 expanded to Austin. For its tacos de alambre, it uses seitan (a protein-rich food made of wheat gluten) instead of grilled steak, and the “chorizo” is made from mushrooms. In Amarillo, Yellow City Street Food (2916 Wolflin Ave, 806-353-9273) soaks tofu for 48 hours in a soy sauce–based marinade with maple and garlic before frying it. The seasoned crust looks like an earthy mosaic; the taco is masterful and addictive.
Preparations that are free of any sort of meat and, in some cases, any animal products at all.
The Baja banana flower taco at Mariachi’s Dine-In, in Fort Worth.
- Rellenas, in Dallas.
- Lick It Up, in El Paso and Austin.
- Yellow City Street Food, Amarillo.
One of the few upsides to 2020 has been the rise of vegan and vegetarian tacos. Historically, Mexican food was heavy on vegetables—meat is expensive. Guisados are rife with veggie options, such as cauliflower fritters. Rellenas, a Saturdays-only, Instagram-based vegan pop-up along Northwest Highway in Dallas, opens ordering on Monday and is usually sold out by Friday. The jackfruit birria taco seems to be the big draw. In Fort Worth, Mariachi’s Dine-In (301 S. Sylvania Ave, 682-760-9606) offers a separate menu of vegan alternatives to the basic PBC fillings, including signature tacos such as the Baja-style banana flower taco, which has an herbaceous flavor and meat-like texture. Lick It Up started as a food truck in El Paso in 2017 and in 2020 expanded to Austin. For its tacos de alambre, it uses seitan (a protein-rich food made of wheat gluten) instead of grilled steak, and the “chorizo” is made from mushrooms. In Amarillo, Yellow City Street Food (2916 Wolflin Ave, 806-353-9273) soaks tofu for 48 hours in a soy sauce–based marinade with maple and garlic before frying it. The seasoned crust looks like an earthy mosaic; the taco is masterful and addictive.
The jerk chicken tacos at the Jerk Shack in San Antonio.
Photograph by Mackenzie Smith Kelley
West Indian
Corn tortillas filled with West Indian or Caribbean-style stews and preparations.
The chicken taco at the Jerk Shack, in San Antonio.
“Uncommon” is an understated description of this emerging style of taco in Texas, which is most often chicken or pork cooked in jerk seasoning, typically a potent mix of aromatics such as onion and garlic, earthy spices such as allspice and cumin, and a heavy dose of chiles. The standard-bearer is found at the Jerk Shack (117 Matyear, 210-776-7780), on San Antonio’s historically Mexican American West Side. The meats are juicy and presented in a large chop; the jerk spice is of medium heat at most, but a finish of pineapple pico de gallo gives the tacos an extra bite. The national attention the Jerk Shack received in May, when GQ named it one of the best new restaurants in the country, will hopefully spur more jerk taco spots to open in Texas—we could all use that life-affirming heat.
The Dallas-Fort Worth Taco Trail
Credits
Writer
José R. Ralat
Editor
Kathy Blackwell
Art direction
Victoria Millner, Emily Kimbro
Design & Development
Tim Biery
Photo editor
Claire Hogan
Art Assistant
Kathia Ramirez
Copy editors
Marilyn Bailey, Amy Dorning, Sarah Rutledge
Assistant Editors
Arielle Avila, Sierra Juarez
Illustrations
Klaus Kremmerz