The Best Mexican Food in the United States

A counter-service taco joint in The Heights where the filling can come from just about anywhere on the map, including Thai-style chicken, lamb keema, falafel, and fried oysters with ranch slaw. You order at the counter, grab a frozen margarita, and land in a dining room painted a shade of orange that commits fully. The patio is the move when the weather cooperates, and the queso and hummus both turn up for sharing. The Infatuation put it on its Houston tacos list.

Istmo is a Lakeview Mexican restaurant devoted to the food of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, a corner of Oaxaca most menus treat as a footnote. It serves breakfast too, which is where the green enchiladas come in, built on the chef's mother's sauce, so there's a family stake in them. Dinner gets tlayudas and baked fish, and the drinks have their own point of view. Eater lists it among Chicago's best Mexican restaurants.

This is the dressier, sit-down cousin of the Archer Heights spot that made its name on pozole, and it keeps that dish while wandering off into aguachiles, mole, cochinita pibil, and grilled meats. The sirloin comes with pineapple-habanero sauce and avocado mousse, which is a lot of sauce for one cut and somehow works. Weekend brunch, plus a tequila and mezcal list long enough to need a plan, and sotol and raicilla for the brave.

A taco spot near NRG where the trompo al pastor, shaved from a vertical spit with pineapple, draws the kind of loyalty that has nothing to do with proximity to a stadium. Weekends bring taquitos de canasta, basket tacos steamed soft under onions until they collapse on contact. There's also a dice roll and a buzzer game at the counter: land right and the meal is free, which keeps things lively in ways most taco spots don't bother with.

La Chaparrita is half Mexican grocery and half taco counter in Little Village, so you can pick up a bag of dried chiles on the way to eating a taco, which is efficient. The cooking happens on a comal con sombrero, the domed griddle you'd see on a Mexico City street corner. The menu runs from al pastor and asada to cabeza, crispy tripe, and sesos, and there's tepache and aguas frescas to wash down whatever you were brave enough to order.

A marinated pork spit spinning in the window pulls in foot traffic on MLK Way, which is basically the oldest form of advertising. This Chiapas-style taqueria in Berkeley orders you outside to pick up your al pastor, the ruby meat sweet and charred, with pineapple and a green oil salsa alongside. The chicken mole is a serious plate when you want it. Noah's Ark animals frolic across a mural on the wall, keeping things cheerful.

This is a casual taco spot downtown that keeps the lights on until 3 a.m. on Thursday through Saturday, and 2 a.m. the rest of the week. The menu runs from classic street tacos to the flour-tortilla "gringo" kind and quesabirria, with margaritas in flavors up to and including chamoy. Order at the counter, wear whatever survived the night so far, and come back in a few hours for a breakfast taco if the night refuses to end.

Warm tortillas pressed at a kiosk just inside the door set the tone at this San Rafael Mexican restaurant, where the kitchen takes mole seriously enough to run seven housemade versions on the weekend buffet. The mole poblano and a red guajillo version called Mama Luisa are the ones to pace yourself toward. Cabeza de res, menudo, and pozole rojo round things out. Order a michelada; it isn't included, but it's the move.

A strip mall Mexican restaurant where everything, walls, floors, booths, even the plates, is painted black so the food glows against it like a still life. The brothers who run Lujos took over their parents' spot and rebuilt it almost entirely. The regular menu covers tacos, burritos, and quesadillas, but there's a permanent off-menu section worth asking about, including birria enchiladas drowning in red sauce with crema and guacamole. Wash it down with the horchata.

Magnolia's is a Mexican chuchería in the Greater East End, which means ice cream is only the starting point before the chamoy, the Tajín, and the sour worms take over. Gushers can end up on a banana split, and the milkshakes come buried in fruit syrup and candy. It's cheap, loud, and sticky in the best tradition of the genre. Go after school lets out only if you enjoy negotiating with a pack of ten-year-olds.

Manchamanteles is a Bucktown Mexican restaurant named after a mole, which is a bit like naming your place Birthday Cake. The room is bright and permanently dressed for a party, and the menu is built around those sauces, sampled side by side on sopes and spooned over slow-braised pork ribs. It's sit-down but relaxed, with plenty of vegetarian and gluten-free options. Eater put it on a list of Chicago's best Mexican restaurants.

Mas Allá del Sol is a sit-down Mexican restaurant on North Broadway where a buttered, griddled telera shows up in place of the usual chip basket. The chef once cooked for an archbishop, which sets a high bar for the enchiladas and the chipotle lamb shank. The mezcal list wanders well past Oaxaca, so plan on a slow dinner. Eater has it on its roundup of Chicago's Mexican restaurants.

Nacho Daddy is a casual Strip-adjacent Mexican spot built around one idea, which is that a chip should never be left alone to face the world dry. The plates arrive piled high with seasoned beef, yellow queso, and beans, and there are fancier versions with filet mignon or butter-poached lobster for people who like their nachos with a mortgage. A scorpion shot is available, and it is exactly what it sounds like.

Rubi's Tacos is a Pilsen taqueria that started as a stall at Maxwell Street Market and kept the market's sense of urgency. Tortillas come in blue, yellow, or nopal and are made to order, which is why a line forms and nobody complains about it. Guisados run from beef tongue to chicharrón to zucchini blossom, so vegetarians and the tongue-curious both get fed. Expect cheap, fast, and no dress code beyond pants.

Driftwood sculptures, artisanal metalwork, and potted succulents give this California Avenue Mexican restaurant the feel of a funky antique shop that decided to serve food, which turns out to be a fine decision. The menu is cheerfully idiosyncratic: lasagna layered with roasted poblanos, empanadas wrapped in a pink chipotle-beet masa. On Sundays the farmers' market fills the street outside, and the kitchen leans into a Mexican-ish brunch that fits the whole slightly-offbeat vibe.

Ordering here means choosing a station based on what you want, which feels like a small logistics exam before you've had a single taco. It's a casual counter spot on South Eastern, so come hungry and dressed for salsa. Fillings run from carne asada to buche, cabeza, and tripe, with soyrizo for vegetarians, all on soft corn tortillas with up to eight salsas to sort out. Eater lists it among the best tacos in Las Vegas.

The chilaquiles burrito, stuffed with saucy corn chips, grilled panela, eggs, and pork en chile verde, is the reason to know this compact south San Jose taqueria. The walls are turquoise, the menu runs to genuinely oversized tortas and Flamin' Hot Cheetos tacos, and seating inside the narrow room fills fast. The San Francisco Chronicle named it one of the best restaurants in San Jose, which tracks with the line out front on any given morning.

A bright pink Tex-Mex restaurant in the Heights, covered in murals, beer posters, and neon, with a parking lot that has been full for as long as anyone can remember. The queso arrives at the exact drippy consistency fajitas and flautas demand, and the margaritas work faster than the service, which is saying something. It handles birthday crowds, a two-person booth, and the odd pancake breakfast with equal calm.

The Birria Queen is a taco truck in Third Ward, and the name spares you any guesswork about the menu. The tacos come crisp and stuffed with cheese, with carne asada, chicken, or a vegan filling inside, and most people grab theirs to go. Park at the picnic table instead, dunk each one in the consomé while it's still hot, and order the jalapeño crema on the side if you're feeling brave.

Toca Madera is a Mexican restaurant on Allen Parkway that treats dinner as a floor show, with live entertainment, a Vegas-meets-Miami sensibility, and cocktails and dishes that arrive on fire. The menu runs from smoky ceviche to grilled wagyu to a branzino in chipotle mezcal butter. Expect dressed-up groups and a bill to match, plus a kitchen that stays open until 1 a.m. on weekends, which Eater counted among Houston's best late-night spots.

Che Ah Chi is the full-service restaurant inside Enchantment Resort, set up so the red rocks of Boynton Canyon are the main event and the food is the supporting cast. Breakfast leans açai bowl and egg-white scramble, the sort of order that says you plan to hike later, while dinner moves toward mole and lamb with a resort-appropriate bill. Reserve ahead, since anniversaries tend to descend on the room all at once.

Crudo is a Baja-leaning seafood spot on India Street where the counter is laid out like a sushi bar, except the fish is wearing lime instead of soy. Order a tower of oysters and clams, then work through the aguachiles and tostadas, or sit on the roomy patio and let the tacos arrive in their own time. Finish with guava cheesecake and a carajillo, which counts as dessert and a second wind.

This is a longtime Mexican restaurant on Las Vegas Boulevard that does tamales the old way, tucked into masa that stays soft, with sweet pineapple-and-raisin ones for anyone who wants dessert to count as breakfast. The menu runs from chilaquiles through mole and tortilla soup, and weekends bring a shrimp caldo that works as a hangover plan. Prices stay modest, and nobody dresses up for it.

El Moose is an all-day Mexican spot in Ballard where floral oilcloths and papel picado do the decorating and café de olla does the reviving. It's casual, priced like a place you'd go twice in a weekend, and the out-late-last-night crowd fills the room by mid-morning. The alambres come with cheese that melts on contact, and a fried egg on top is the sort of move the brunch gods tend to notice. Arrive early.

A giant pink monkey painted on the outside wall tells you what you're getting into, and the stained-glass windows and colorful ceiling fixtures inside keep the theme going. This is a lively, casual Mexican spot in East Fremont serving tacos, flautas, and seafood, plus loaded fries that count as a starter if you're generous. Weekend brunch goes full pink, with rosy cocktails and a mimosa flight.

Momento Cantina is a sprawling, pink-lit Mexican restaurant with self-serve tequila machines and a soundtrack better suited to a Cancun pool deck than a Monroe Street block. It's the kind of place you'd expect in the West Loop, yet here it sits, a short walk from the symphony. The freshly made corn tortillas carry the menu, showing up under birria, tuna tostadas, and a whole fish in zarandeado sauce.

Zaba's is a Vegas-born mini chain in Downtown Summerlin, the kind of counter-service Mexican grill where you build a bowl, burrito, or quesadilla by choosing a protein and pointing at things. Grilled shrimp, shredded beef, and battered fish all get a turn. The Valencia heat tacos toss orange slices in chile powder, which sounds like a dare and eats like a plan. Wear whatever you wore to the farmers market, and expect to be out in twenty minutes.

This is a family-run Mexican spot on the Tigard stretch of Pacific Highway, a counter-service taqueria with a panaderia attached and a price tag that won't make you check your balance. The burritos arrive at roughly the size of a throw pillow, and the rice and beans migrate across the plate like they're settling new territory. A glass wall of pan dulce guards the door, which makes leaving without a bag nearly impossible. Eater has it on its list of the best restaurants and food carts in Portland.

Taco Centro is a casual Little Italy taquería where birria turns up on tacos, on pizza, and in ramen, which is a lot of jobs for one braise. The menu runs thirteen tacos deep, with a Sonoran one on a freshly formed flour tortilla that gets most of the attention. Churros con tres leches close things out, and the drinks lean micheladas, palomas, and local beer on tap. Order at the counter, wear whatever you walked in wearing.

A charcoal-fired street cart in a Silver Lake parking lot, doing Hermosillo-style asada the way it's meant to be done: beef piled onto tallow-rich tortillas with cabbage, guacamole, and a lineup of salsas that demands some decision-making. The team behind it brings serious pedigree, Atla among the past stops. The menu is short on purpose, asada tacos, burritos, and the fixings, and the line makes the case before you've ordered.

The front window is how you order, the aguas frescas are poured cold, and the adobada is quietly the whole argument for coming. This Echo Park taqueria is a branch of a Tijuana original, serving the usual lineup of proteins as tacos, mulitas, burritos, and vampiros. It landed on Eater's hottest new restaurants list, which tracks, given how fast the neighborhood found it. First-timers are pointed toward the adobada, and regulars tend to agree.

Las Almas Rotas is a Dallas agave bar that stocks small-batch mezcal, bacanora, and raicilla instead of celebrity tequila, which means the flights can include pechuga mezcal, distilled with raw poultry, and bottles that fit no known category. It was a James Beard Outstanding Bar Program semifinalist. Margaritas and palomas let the spirits do the talking, and carne asada tacos and pozole rojo keep the evening from getting too educational.

An ornamental rope sculpture anchors the bar, tropical plants cradle the booths, and lanterns glow softly over decorative stonework, so the room earns its atmosphere before the menu arrives. This is an upscale Mexican restaurant with serious intentions: the kitchen pulls from across Mexico, landing somewhere between coastal and interior, with dishes like Dungeness crab enchiladas in tomatillo sauce alongside steak and wild prawns. The guava cheesecake closes things out well.

Little Rey is a fast-casual taco counter on West End from the Atlanta restaurateur Ford Fry, and the sauce-and-salsa bar is the real draw, with two green salsas, one mild and citrusy, one spicy and creamy. Smoky steak tacos and whole rotisserie-style chickens come out fast, George Jones plays overhead, and there's free parking and a patio you wouldn't expect on this stretch. Nashville Scene named it Best New Fast-Casual Joint.