Tacos La Rueda

There aren't many Sonoran-style taquerías in LA, but the few we do have really elbow their way into the city's taco scene at large. Sonoratown cranks out excellent chivichangas with the efficiency of a Tesla assembly line. El Ruso makes dainty flour tortillas that withstand drippy, stewed chicharrón. Sonoritas serves juicy filet mignon tacos for an indulgent lunch. And then came Tacos La Rueda, a Bellflower taqueria with a menu that's seemingly twice as long as its peer spots. We're dubbing this Sonora's unofficial embassy in LA, or at least for all things flour and beef.

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

The tacos de asada here just feel right. Not in a woo-woo kind of way, but in the literal, textural sense. Thin flour tortillas are semi-translucent, yet sturdy and foldable like a magician's handkerchief. Sliced cabbage, onion, and cilantro add a needed crunch. Salsa roja jabs you with spice for a quick second, and every edge of beef has a distinct crispiness. One of the main characteristics of Sonoran barbecue is the smell of mesquite charcoal, and how its smoke permeates everything like an industrial-strength air freshener. That's not the case at Tacos La Rueda (they use gas) but the tender chuck steak still gets plenty of flavorful char from the quality time it spends with a ripping hot asador.

While beef is the signature, it's by no means the only draw of this small strip mall taquería. Tacos La Rueda does the most with their relatively limited space, which looks like an In-N-Out that commissioned a mural of a Yaqui tribesman. The menu is varied and hyper-regional, with specialties you can't find at your average stand like bacon-wrapped "doggos," cheesy caramelos, lorenzas with frijoles dripping off the side, and tacos de cabeza that are so delicate they disintegrate like a Kleenax caught in a flame. Order an item that kisses Tacos La Rueda's grill and safely assume it'll be the most memorable thing you swallow this week, whether that's the nearly incinerated tripas or the warm tortillas dabbed with rendered bacon fat. The success of these tacos comes down to the timing and temperature control of the grill. That attention to heat, in combination with the balanced salsas, is what makes La Rueda's tacos some of LA's best.

Tacos La Rueda is carving out even more room in the LA taco conversation for smoky, Sonoran-style grilled meat tucked into golden tortillas de harina—an evolution that should delight anyone who cares about our food scene. From now on, don't talk about LA tacos without mentioning this taquería. And if you do, we'll know you haven't been here yet.

Food Rundown

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

Tacos

Choosing the right tortilla is as important as choosing the right hiking books. At Tacos La Rueda, always go flour (unless you get the tacos de cabeza, in which case the softer corn tortilla lets you appreciate the fatty bits in the mixed beef cheek, lip, and tongue). The asada is some of the best in LA, the al pastor is juicy and more subtle in flavor than we were expecting, and the tripas are so aggressively crispy, they taste like thick-cut bacon left on the griddle for too long. We like to order our tacos with the works: salsa roja, cabbage, onion, cilantro, and a big ol' blob of guacamole to cool things down.

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

Lorenza

If a taco and a tostada met on Hinge and had a baby, it'd be this. Imagine a corn tortilla got left on the grill until it became crispy, charred, and a little bendy, and then was promptly doused in frijoles. There's cheese, guac, and meat in this crispy tortilla, too, so expect the whole thing to collapse the moment you bite in. We like asada with ours because it doesn't overpower everything else.

photo credit: Jessie Clapp

Caramelo

The Clifford The Big Red Dog of tacos. It's huge, so consider sharing if you want to sample more. It comes as a folded, hub cap-sized tortilla loaded with frijoles, your choice of meat, and all the usual toppings, plus an entire grilled anaheim chile melted into a cheese crust. The juicy al pastor works great here because it comes with grilled sweet pineapple to cut through the salt.