As a New Yorker, I was raised to believe that our city does everything better. We walk faster (seriously, move over if you’re walking slowly, I’m begging you), talk louder and eat like it’s a competitive sport. There’s food from every corner of the world within a 10-block radius, and somehow, it’s all good. There are corner delis that are still open at midnight and cheap, delicious pizza by the slice that tastes better than it should. From family-run spots to high-end Michelin-starred restaurants, we have it all.
But if New York City is known for one thing, it’s not tacos.
It’s not that New York’s tacos are bad — they just usually aren’t great (and I can’t say anything too harsh about the city, now can I?). When I can get something better to eat somewhere else, that’s exactly what I do. So I definitely didn’t expect that moving to Boston would turn me into someone who eats tacos at least once a week. But somehow, here I am, planning my schedule around the good, accessible taco options around me.
Just yesterday — day two of the snow bonanza — I finished a five-hour babysitting shift, took the Red Line and walked back from Davis Square because the shuttle wasn’t running. Instead of warming up in my dorm like a rational person, I dragged my friends straight to Picante Taqueria. It didn’t even feel like that long of a hike around campus (even though I live downhill) because I knew warm food was in my future.
Picante was packed. You could tell most of the patrons were Tufts students, and we flock there for good reason. The food is great, it’s close to campus and they take JumboCash! They’re pretty well priced, with two tacos running about $10, and they always go heavy on the meat.
I usually order the al pastor and just get everything (cilantro, onion and avocado salsa) on top. The result is always a warm, double-layered corn tortilla filled with tender, marinated pork dripping with delicious, flavorful oil and salsa. The tacos each come with a lime, which I squeeze to death before I devour them.
My friends ordered a variety of things. My friend Rudy got a burrito, and it was gone before I even started my second taco, which must have been a good sign. My friend Simón got tacos, flautas and fried plantains (one of which I stole and must say was delicious). His only complaint was how messy the flautas ended up being, as they are typically hand food.
Picante is the perfect place for when you want an escape from Tufts food. They have a wide variety of solid Mexican dishes that always hit the spot.
Another Mexican restaurant I frequent is Anna’s Taqueria in Davis Square. Last semester, before Jack Frost descended upon us, my friend Maddie and I made the trip there almost every Saturday for ‘breakfast’ at 12:30 p.m.
Anna’s was actually suggested to me before I even came to Tufts by my parents, who lived in Davis Square when they met. After trying it, I understood immediately why they sent me there. I usually order the al pastor there, too, and I’d say it’s just like Picante’s, except maybe a little fattier and a little heavier on the pineapple (which I wouldn’t say is a bad thing). Earlier in the fall, they had a watermelon agua fresca that I was completely obsessed with. It was refreshing, tasted like sweet fresh watermelon and was only around $3 (a rare college steal). It has sadly disappeared from the menu, so I’m choosing to believe it’s seasonal and will return once it’s warmer (if that ever happens).
The fact that Maddie willingly goes here says a lot. She’s from San Diego, which undoubtedly has better Mexican food than all of New England combined (not to hurt anyone’s feelings or anything). If it passes her standards, it passes mine. Anna’s also has multiple locations around Boston, including one about a 10-minute walk from the School of the Museum of Fine Arts at Tufts University, making it dangerously convenient for all my fellow Bachelor of Fine Arts or combined degree students.
While Anna’s and Picante have become my dependable quick-fix spots, neither is somewhere you linger. They’re perfect for refueling, but not necessarily for settling in. So if I wanted a sit-down meal somewhere to catch up with friends, I’d go to The Painted Burro in Harvard Square.
They have multiple locations, but the Harvard Square one is the move. It was recently renovated and is beautiful inside, with blue tiling, warm lighting and a bar covered in faux plants right in the center of the room. It feels intentional, like a place where you can stay awhile.
The tacos here are solid, though I’d rank them slightly below Anna’s and Picante. The empanadas, however, were a standout — filled with beef and spinach and topped with tres quesos, radish, frisée salad, smoked tomato salsa, Mexican crema and cotija. The guacamole was good, though I firmly believe all guac deserves onion, and here it was noticeably absent.
If you order anything, make it the dessert. Their Mexican Ice Cream Sundae — chipotle chocolate, coconut avocado and dulce de leche — arrives dramatically in a margarita glass topped with caramelized plantains, toasted Marcona almonds, horchata whipped cream and tequila-soaked cherries. We ordered it because the people next to us had one, and the second it landed on their table, my uncle’s eyes lit up as he declared that we “must” get it as well.
So yes, I’ll defend New York in nearly every category — but on tacos, Boston wins. Living at Tufts has quietly turned me into someone who plans their week around al pastor. What started as convenience and a way to avoid the dining hall has turned into routine … and eventually loyalty. While it pains me to admit it, I might actually miss these tacos when I go home.
