Photography by Amos Morgan
Times have changed some at Taqueria Muy Macho since it first opened years ago. It’s gotten spiffier, with tiled tables, a more fashionable open kitchen, and walls of historic photos, many showing those Mexican revolutionary icons Zapata, Villa, and Trotsky. Veggie burritos and taco salads have joined the carnivores’ classics. But the one-word inscription, "Mexicanisimo," on an outsized Zapata mural still says it all: It’s still easier to order in Spanish, and Muy Macho still serves some of the very best Mexican food in this metropolis. Its proprietor is from Oaxaca, and her intensely flavored mole negro is the real Oaxacan thing, a chocolate addict’s dream. The classic stews—posole and menudo—will cure whatever ails you, whether or not you have the guts to ask about the "four kinds of beef tripe" in the latter. The roasted half chicken, drippingly tender in crackling skin, is superb. Just one change for the worse: Muy Macho no longer serves beer. Something about "los menores." The rest of the explanation got drowned out by La Fea Más Bella on the TV.