Herman H.
Google
Picture this: It’s around 4pm in Lomas de Chapultepec, the sun is still behaving like it has manners, and I’m standing in a line that’s longer than my list of life regrets. Forty minutes. Forty full minutes of watching influencers take selfies with tacos they haven’t even bitten yet. And you know what? Every single second was worth it. I’d wait another forty just to relive the moment those glorious tacos hit the table.
These aren’t your corner taquería tacos that cost pocket change and taste like childhood. No, La Once Mil decided to take premium cuts, rib eye, picaña, black Angus trompo, that legendary New York Delgadita and treat them like royalty. The meat is so tender it basically apologizes for being this good. Juicy, perfectly grilled, with that caramelized edge that makes you question every other taco you’ve ever loved.
Then comes the costra: that glorious cheese crust crisped right onto the tortilla like the kitchen said, “Let’s make this illegal levels of addictive.” One bite and your brain short-circuits, salty, melty queso meets smoky carne asada or that buttery rib eye, all wrapped in a fresh tortilla that’s basically whispering “you’re welcome” in your mouth. The flavors explode: rich beef, sharp cheese, a hit of beans if you go that route, and salsas that range from “mild flirtation” to “slap you with habanero love.”
Pair it with an ice cold cerveza (they pour it like they know exactly what you’re going through), and suddenly 4pm feels like the most civilized happy hour on Earth. You’re sitting there, beer sweating in your hand, taco dripping slightly onto the plate because who has time for manners when perfection is this close? It’s casual luxury: fancy meat in a taquería vibe, no white tablecloths, just pure, unfiltered joy.
Sure, it’s pricey, since one taco can cost what a full meal elsewhere does, but when that first bite lands, you realize you’re not paying for food; you’re paying for therapy. Forty minutes in line? Pfft. That’s just foreplay.
If you’re in CDMX and your soul needs a hug from Mexico itself, drag yourself to Monte Everest 780. Wait the wait. Order the rib eye costra or the picaña trompo. Crack open that beer at 4pm. And prepare to tell everyone back home that yes, you waited 40 minutes for tacos… and you’d do it again tomorrow.
10/10, would bankrupt myself happily. 🌮🍺😂