There are several of these little Mexican restaurants all over town, usually inhabiting buildings that once belonged to another eatery; sometimes this can yield wacky results, like the rotunda in front of the trashy motel on Highway 290 that’s shaped like The Flying Nun’s habit. Or the South First strip-mall suite sporting our “Fearless Critic 2010 Pick” sticker, even though we’d never been there (it apparently inherited it from Evita’s Botanitas).

At each, you’ll find the same huge, laminated fold-out menu of Jalisco-style and Tex-Mex dishes; with so many choices, there are bound to be a few avoidable things: a tortilla soup, for instance, piled comically high with chicken tenders that taste like they’ve been defrosted and boiled (avoid, too, a dry chicken breast plate). Sopes are inedibly crunchy, and al pastor’s more fatty and fruity than porky. But these are exceptions to an otherwise delicious rule: homemade corn and flour tortillas are some of the best in the city, and chorizo breakfast tacos drip with a spicy red grease that’s insanely good with the house’s creamy green hot salsa. Huevos rancheros are ideal; skirt steak is tenderly grilled with lovely char; refried beans are smoky and rich; and flautas are a credit to their type—long, lean, crisp, and filled with lovely dried shreds of meat. Looks like these guys deserves that sticker after all.