Tacos are practically the symbol of Mexico. Quick and cheap, these little parcels of meat, cheese and salsa are perhaps the world's greatest snack food.

Tacos Alvaro is a somewhat dive-y joint, and one of the few places open semi-late in Oaxaca City. Right upon entering we found a counter laden with fresh meats and veggies, with a painted flame backdrop and a cook—possibly Alvaro himself—mugging for the camera.

Everything on the menu looked great, and the enticing smell made me want to try them all, especially as the tacos are on the small side; but I restrained myself to one lengua (tongue) and one al pastor (roasted pork), feeling completely full afterwards. We also ordered sodas but the waitress instructed us to pick them ourselves out of the case.

The table was set with delicious spicy salsas and chunks of lime that made a good thing even better. The lengua was incredibly tender, and al pastor is one of my constant-favorite taco fillings. At just 7 pesos (60 cents) each, these were an amazing deal.

Oaxaca's a small town, so many restaurants are closed by 9 or 10. With so little activity it's quite possible most people have no reason to be out late anyway, but when we ended up having a long night of dollar-beers and karaoke, we were grateful for the nighttime taco stands.

The stand we visited was near our hotel, and its painted sign declared its owners had 40 years of experience. I wasn't sure if that was cooking experience in general, or if this actual stand had been in this same spot for 40 years. There was no written menu so we just got chicken.

These tacos were truly snack-sized, as they contained juicy dark-meat chicken and nothing else. Each cost merely 6 pesos, which is dirt-cheap but seemed like less of a bargain after we'd seen the variety at Tacos Alvaro.

The fluorescent lights from the taco stand shined onto the cobblestone streets in this quiet, contemplative moment. Oaxaca trudged through a great deal of unrest in the last year, in the form of strikes and riots, and lately saw very few tourists. Sitting at this weathered wooden stand, rubbing elbows with cowboys as the cook half-watched her telenovela, I felt as far removed from resort-lined Mexico as possible.

I love Oaxaca.

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