I ate forty-six tacos in three days so you don't have to.
A definitive ranking of every taqueria within the city limits, including the one that made me question my life choices on day two.
It started, as these things do, with a bet. My friend Diego, a restaurant photographer who has lived in Santa Cruz for eleven years, claimed there was no way to objectively rank the tacos in this town. “It's all vibes,” he said. “It's the weather, it's who you're with, it's whether the salsa bar is fresh.” I told him this was the laziest food criticism I'd ever heard and that I would prove him wrong over a long weekend.
What followed was three days, forty-six tacos, two GI events I'd rather not describe, and a spreadsheet with 17 columns. Here's what I learned.
The methodology, such as it was.
Each spot got the same order: one al pastor, one carnitas, one fish, and whatever the cook said was best that day. I rated each on tortilla (handmade or not, structural integrity), protein (preparation, seasoning, freshness), salsa (quality and quantity), and what I came to call “the hidden tax” — how much the experience suffers from things like rude staff, dirty bathrooms, or aggressive parking situations.
“The al pastor at Las Palmas is, for my money, the single best taco in California. There. I said it.”
The big takeaway.
Santa Cruz has a depth of taco culture that punches dramatically above its weight. There are towns ten times this size with half the options. Tacos Moreno on the Eastside remains, after twenty-three years, the heavyweight; the carnitas super burrito is a rite of passage and the line is a feature, not a bug. But the al pastor at Las Palmas is, for my money, the single best taco in California, and the Vallarta drive-thru at 11pm is a kind of grace.
What I'd order, where.
- Tacos Moreno: the carnitas super, no exceptions, get cash on the way in.
- Las Palmas: three al pastor, two horchata, eat at the bar.
- Vallarta: lengua, late, drive-thru, eat in the car. It's the law.
- El Palomar: the molcajete, but bring a friend or, ideally, two.
Diego, for the record, conceded the bet. He bought me a horchata. We ate one more taco. The whole exercise was, in retrospect, one of the better long weekends I've had in this town. Eat well, Santa Cruz.
— End ·