Tortillas pressed to order, salsas made at dawn. Spice marked honestly:● warm, ●● serious, ●●● Rosa-level.
Three per order on handmade corn tortillas, cilantro, onion, and your pick of the salsa bar.
Three-day adobo, carved from the trompo, charred pineapple, salsa verde cruda.
The Sunday pot, seven decades in. Served with consomé for dipping —non-negotiable.
Mesquite-grilled, guacamole taquero, morita salsa.
Guajillo-butter mushrooms, epazote, queso fresco. The vegetarian order that converts carnivores.
Bigger plates for longer nights.
Chile colorado, braised chicken, crema, a fried egg on top if you know what’s good.
Friday and Saturday only. Hominy, pork shoulder, and a broth that takes all day and explains itself.
Whole-butterflied catch, half adobo rojo, half garlic-herb verde, grilled over coals.
Fresh lime all day. Ximena’s list, poured with opinions.
Blanco, lime squeezed to order, agave, salt half-rim. No mix in the building.
Three pours from the growing shelf, with sal de gusano and orange. Ximena picks; you learn.
Horchata, jamaica, or whatever fruit looked best at the market this morning.
Two desserts, both worth the argument over the last bite.
Fried to order, canela sugar, thick Oaxacan chocolate for dunking.
Goat’s-milk caramel, wobble calibrated across three generations.
Menu changes with the market —the pastor never does.
See the room, the trompo, and the churros you’re about to order.