By BRENDA STORCH

When I heard NYC taco chain Tacombi was hosting the celebrated El Califa de León as a pop-up in Chicago, I was intrigued—and judging by the lines snaking down the block, I wasn’t the only one. Could the magic of Mexico City’s Michelin-star-worthy taquería be conjured in this fleeting experience?

I’d just tried El Califa de León’s legendary gaoneras a month or so ago (read about it here), and the memory was still vivid—so vivid, in fact, that when people started asking, “Have you tried it yet?” I couldn’t resist.

I joined the crowd—a mix of taco devotees, local media, and curious food aficionados—and stood in line. In the rain. Twice.

Yes, twice.

The first attempt? A bust. By the time I reached the door on my second try, the coveted gaonera—a round, somewhat flat cut of beef from the front leg near the chest—was off the menu for the remainder of the pop-up. And this wasn’t just any taco. The gaonera is the crown jewel of El Califa de León, its raison d’être, the dish that’s earned it a Michelin star and put its owner, Mario Alonso, on the culinary map. Its name pays homage to the bullfighting pass it’s named after—a nod to the artistry and know-how both disciplines demand.

I settled for the two options left: chuleta and costilla. Don’t get me wrong—the pork chuleta, and the beef costilla, (also rib meat) both marinated and kissed by the griddle, were solid options. But they couldn’t quite fill the shoes of the gaonera, that rare cut capable of transforming a taco into an experience.

Then there was the setting. Tacombi’s effort to channel the soul of a Mexican taquería might come off a little too polished for some, a little too staged. It did for me. The electric trompo (likely created for compliance) in the corner is a metaphor, stripped of the primal crackle and hypnotic blaze of the real thing. And the absence of a taquero—the master whose hands and intuition transform tacos into simultaneously a magic trick and ephemeral art—was palpable. Instead, there was a bustling assembly line by the griddle. Efficient, sure, but the soul, the essence, was missing.

Finally, after much anticipation, the tacos arrived. And they were fine—good, even—but something had been lost in transit. The tortillas weren’t handmade, and the salsas, though pleasant, lacked the complexity and heat that make you stop mid-bite and nod. Even the lime—a taco’s simplest yet most crucial sidekick—required a request and a wait, all while the tacos threatened to go cold. It was a bittersweet reminder: the heart of Mexico City is not so easily replicated; some things simply don’t travel well.

But here’s the thing—maybe Tacombi’s pop-up wasn’t about perfection. It was about capturing a sliver of the experience, a taste of the kind of tacos that inspire people to book flights and land at El Califa de León’s doorstep. And they got that right. The lines, the buzz, the collective anticipation—they were proof of how far people will go for something extraordinary.

I am genuinely thrilled to see El Califa de León recognized as a Michelin-worthy destination. It’s not just about stars or accolades; it’s a tribute to the craft and hard work of the taquero, the layers of tradition folded into every tortilla, and the proof that a taco can shatter expectations, transcend borders and challenge what we think good food can be.

So, if you want the real thing, go to Mexico. Savor the gaonera on handmade tortillas. Try the salsas made with ingredients touched by the local sun and cooked under an impossible boiling-point altitude. Experience the feeling of standing on a corner with a taco that’s just been passed to you, warm and perfect. Find one of the three spots available at the bar or devour your taco standing up.

Some tacos are just worth the journey.