White people who don’t really know me very well like to introduce me to people they know who claim to be from Mexico City. In general, white people don’t understand that the only people who hate Mexicans more than the KKK are other Mexicans.

Most of these meets-n-greet turn into meets-n-who-the-fuck-is-this-asshole shortly after I ask these fellow “chilangos” what part of the city they’re from. This is because 95 percent of them are from The State Stable of Mexico. Yes, this is like me telling you I’m from NYC when I’m really from Jersey.

Yes, I understand that maybe it’s too complicated to explain to an outsider all of the ins-n-outs of the geography of your region of origin, and so you have adopted a standard answer to avoid further questions that may ruin the rest of your day (”Where is that?”)… but why you gotta lie to me?

Many years ago, my parents shamed me. They sold out and moved to El Establo de Mexico. ‘Cause you can ride your horse without worrying about picking up the poop, or something like that.

Imagine my surprise when they introduced me to a nice taqueria within their municipality. I may forgive my mother just for saving me from that late-night chicken salad sandwich. “Que, no quieres unos tacos?” Si se puede!

I offer no guarantee that I can get you there, since it was dark and we had to drive around in circles to bypass a couple of tractors blocking one of the streets (no, I am not embellishing), but maybe it is somewhere over here. I grabbed that location from an existing Google Earth map mark, but I feel that it could be accurate. (I don’t have any pictures either, as this was not a planned adventure.)

Their Al Pastor meat is cooked on a gas flame, but it is beautifully flavored. The salsas are not noteworthy, and their service is execrable, but yeah, these are good. At 5 pesos a piece, make sure you order in bulk so that you don’t have to queue up a whole year for seconds.