Picture your typical Mexican restaurant. Tacos and margaritas between terracotta walls, right?
Now, tear up that picture.
Maybe not the part with the tacos, though. The margaritas can probably stay, too. Those are great.
Otherwise... tear up that picture.
And feel free to put the rainbow-tiled kitchen and painted agave plants of Mi Tocaya Antojeria in its place. It’s a loving ode to the food that chef Diana Dávila (of short-lived Cantina 1910 fame) grew up eating, and it’s open now in Logan Square. Take a look.
Come with friends. Sit down under the funky tree mural and talk about how everyone’s day went. Someone will eventually say, “I hear this place makes a mean fideos secos, which is a noodle soup with goat stock and charred tortillas.” Someone else will say, “That was a really specific sentence, Phil.” But they do. And you’ll all eat some.
Or maybe you’ll opt for the queso fundido or al pastor tacos, which will make you question what sort of imposters you’ve been eating all this time.
To drink, there’s the requisite list of Mexican beers and five draft cocktails. And should you insist on a margarita, those are served either by the glass or by the 40-ounce reclaimed Corona jug.
Bless that little glass’s heart.
Now, tear up that picture.
Maybe not the part with the tacos, though. The margaritas can probably stay, too. Those are great.
Otherwise... tear up that picture.
And feel free to put the rainbow-tiled kitchen and painted agave plants of Mi Tocaya Antojeria in its place. It’s a loving ode to the food that chef Diana Dávila (of short-lived Cantina 1910 fame) grew up eating, and it’s open now in Logan Square. Take a look.
Come with friends. Sit down under the funky tree mural and talk about how everyone’s day went. Someone will eventually say, “I hear this place makes a mean fideos secos, which is a noodle soup with goat stock and charred tortillas.” Someone else will say, “That was a really specific sentence, Phil.” But they do. And you’ll all eat some.
Or maybe you’ll opt for the queso fundido or al pastor tacos, which will make you question what sort of imposters you’ve been eating all this time.
To drink, there’s the requisite list of Mexican beers and five draft cocktails. And should you insist on a margarita, those are served either by the glass or by the 40-ounce reclaimed Corona jug.
Bless that little glass’s heart.
