El Tucanazo

This splinter of space on 13th Street feels like a roadside spot somewhere in the Mexican state of Hidalgo. At least according to someone from there. To us it feels like a favorite hidden secret. Colorful and dingy, all meat smoke and spatula crack on the flattop and Tecate swill and futbol on the TV, it’s the epitome of the conclusion of Jodorowsky’s The Holy Mountain: “heaven is a Mexican restaurant.” We go back to the bistec en salsa verde, the steak treading, but going toward drowning, in its salty, sheeny bath of peppery, onion-and-cilantro-chocked verde sauce. But there’s so much: marinated pastor, deeply smoky cochinita pibil, greasy chorizo, a satisfying chipotle salsa. Or, in other terms, they have the basics, done right, with passion and flair, a huge menu, some attitude, and a consistent serving of a saucy, spicy, Southside slice of paradise.