Tacos: The Glorious, Messy Art of Edible Anarchy

Tacos: a humble handful of happiness wrapped lovingly in a tortilla. Few foods have managed to capture the world’s imagination quite like these splendid little parcels. They’re the edible equivalent of a good playlist — universal, comforting, and likely to spark spontaneous dancing if consumed in large enough quantities. The taco isn’t just a meal; it’s a lifestyle, a religion, a reason to cancel plans so you can queue up at a dodgy-looking food truck that’s probably serving the best thing you’ve eaten all year, accompanied by the tantalising aroma of grilled meat and the suspicious whiff of mystery salsa.

The origins of the taco are gloriously unsophisticated, just the way we like it. Long before fancy restaurants started offering “deconstructed tacos” (a crime against nature, if you ask me), indigenous peoples in what is now Mexico were stuffing fish, small game, and insects into tortillas. Practical, delicious, and highly portable, tacos were the original fast food—only without the heartburn-inducing regret that accompanies a late-night burger binge. The very word “taco” likely comes from the silver miners of the 18th century who used “taco” to describe the little charges they would wrap in paper and shove into the rock face to blow it up. A culinary big bang, if you will.

Regional varieties are as colourful and chaotic as a Mexican fiesta during a hurricane. In Baja California, it’s all about the fish taco, battered and fried with a crunch that could wake the dead, then lovingly tucked into a soft tortilla with lashings of creamy sauce and cabbage. In the Yucatán Peninsula, cochinita pibil rules the day: tender, slow-roasted pork marinated in achiote and sour orange, wrapped up like a meaty love letter inside a corn tortilla. Head north and you’ll stumble upon carne asada tacos, charred beef slices slapped onto a grill with enough bravado to rival a cowboy showdown. And let’s not even get started on the majesty that is the taco al pastor—pork shaved off a vertical spit, a method whispered into Mexico’s ear by Lebanese immigrants who missed their shawarma. Over in Sonora, giant flour tortillas cradle smoky carne asada and grilled green onions, while in Sinaloa, raw seafood gets taco treatment with spicy salsas so fiery they come with a side of existential crisis.

What makes tacos so special? Well, besides the fact they’re one of the few foods you can eat with dignity at 2am after one too many tequila shots, it’s their versatility. A taco is a blank canvas for flavour: spicy, smoky, fresh, tangy, crunchy, soft. You can be vegan, carnivore, pescatarian, or a part-time hedonist — there is a taco with your name on it. It’s a democratisation of cuisine—everyone from broke students to Michelin-starred chefs adores them. The true beauty lies in their chaos: no two bites are exactly the same. It’s edible anarchy, and it’s glorious.

Speaking of tequila, it would be nothing short of criminal not to pair your tacos with a solid drink. Margaritas (on the rocks, with salt, none of that frozen nonsense) are a no-brainer. A cold Mexican lager like Modelo, Pacifico, or even a cheeky Corona slices through the richness beautifully. And if you’re feeling dangerously sophisticated, a smoky mezcal cocktail will elevate your taco experience into something borderline spiritual, preferably enjoyed while leaning against a crumbling wall festooned with fairy lights.

Other foods that get along famously with tacos? Think refried beans, their creamy goodness just begging to be scooped onto a chip. Street corn (elote) slathered with mayonnaise, cheese, lime, and dusted with chilli powder—an experience so messy you’ll need both napkins and a small existential reckoning. Crunchy tortilla chips heaving under the weight of guacamole so rich it should probably have its own trust fund. Maybe a casual side of orange-tinged rice that nobody really questions but everyone eats.

Health benefits? Tacos can be a nutritional angel or a devil in disguise—depends who’s holding the tongs. Choose grilled fish, lean meats, heaps of crunchy cabbage, a fresh pico de gallo, and creamy avocado, and you’re practically a poster child for clean eating. Cram them full of carnitas, queso, and deep-fried shells, and well, you’ll be just as happy, if slightly more cholesterol-laden. Life’s all about balance. One taco for the body, one for the soul.

Where to find the best tacos? If you can swing a trip to Mexico, you owe it to yourself to stand on a cracked pavement, bathed in neon light, inhaling a taco so divine you’ll consider cancelling your return flight and setting up permanent residence next to the taqueria. Mexico City alone could keep you fed and blissfully taco-drunk for a lifetime. Stateside, Los Angeles, Austin, and San Diego are veritable meccas of taco artistry, often served from trucks more revered than brick-and-mortar restaurants. In London, taquerias are sprouting faster than you can say “extra guac,” with little holes-in-the-wall and trendy pop-ups vying for your affections. As a general rule of thumb: if you can see the kitchen and the counter smells like heaven, you’re in for a treat. If the establishment has a mascot wearing a sombrero, perhaps lower your expectations.

Feeling peckish? Here’s how you can whip up a batch of tacos that would make a Mexican abuela nod approvingly while wiping a proud tear from her eye.

Tacos recipe

Grab some corn tortillas—fresh if you can get them—and warm them on a dry skillet or directly over the flame if you fancy a little drama. They should be pliable and sport just a few charred spots.

Marinate thin slices of chicken, beef, pork, or even mushrooms in a heady mix of lime juice, cumin, paprika, garlic, oregano, and a pinch of chilli powder for at least an hour. Longer if you have the patience of a saint.

Throw the marinated marvels onto a screaming-hot pan or grill. Let them sizzle and char like they’re auditioning for a street-food documentary.

While the meat or veg is doing its thing, chop up fresh coriander, onions, tomatoes, jalapeños, and maybe a bit of pineapple if you’re feeling particularly inspired.

Sling the meat into the tortilla, pile on your toppings, give it all a cheeky squeeze of lime, and finish with a generous sprinkle of flaky salt.

No cutlery. No fuss. No regrets. Just pure, unadulterated joy, one sublime bite at a time.

Viva los tacos, amigos!