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IN MEXICO, a taco can take on many forms. It might be nothing more than a flat corn tortilla smeared with chilorio — a spicy, chile-seasoned pork from the inlands — then rolled up and eaten with hot salsa. It might be a tortilla that is rolled and fried, found stacked on a street vendor's cart, ready for snacking.

It might be filled with marinated pork that's sliced from a spit and topped with a pineapple, gyro-style. This taco, called an "al pastor," is a favorite in Mexico City and a specialty at Zocalo Taqueria, a tidy little joint newly opened in Grant Park.

Elissa Eubanks/Staff (ENLARGE)
Zocalo Taqueria is different from the Midtown and Decatur hubs. This energetic new spot boasts décor and an atmosphere as lively as the food.
Elissa Eubanks/Staff (ENLARGE)
What better way to wash down a golden-brown chicharron de queso (below) than with an ice-cold sangria or margarita?
Elissa Eubanks/Staff (ENLARGE)
Elissa Eubanks/Staff (ENLARGE)
Now that's authentic: The beauty of tacos al pastor is that the pork comes sliced right off a spit and served gyro-style, which is a popular method in Mexico City.
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I can see this place quickly becoming one of my favorite haunts for a fast bite: Its bright lime green and sun-yellow walls beckon me. Plastered with posters from the Mexican cinema's golden age and scattered with metal tables enameled with a blazing "Corona" image across the top, it is full of energy and vibrance, yet somehow relaxing.

If the name Zocalo sounds familiar that's because it is — this is the same familia (siblings Lucero, Luis and Marco Martinez-Obregon) that brought Atlanta Zocalo in Midtown and Decatur.

Zocalo Taqueria is very different from these two midscale Mexican eateries. It has the movement and pace of a real Mexican taqueria, and there are few things that seem out of place. The main exception is the inclusion of desserts (tres leches and flan, mostly) on the menu and at the counter; rarely would these show up in a taqueria anywhere but the States.

The rotisserie spit for al pastor tacos beams from the front window, where an amiable, very quiet gentleman spends his entire evening slicing the succulent pork and dropping it into a tortilla in his hand like a ball into a catcher's mitt. He slices some pineapple, too, then sprinkles it with a helping of shredded cilantro and drops the whole thing into a prepped, parchment-lined plastic basket.

It arrives at my table seconds later, with tiny to-go cups of creamy salsa verde emulsified with avocado and a fiery chipotle salsa, deep red and flecked with chile. It costs a buck ninety-five. Two make a meal.

But I never stop at two tacos. Puhleeeeze. They have huaraches on the menu, people. The corn tortilla is a vessel for so much flavor in Mexican food, and it comes in myriad forms. But this shoe sole-shaped delicacy is heaped with refried beans and queso cotijo, pico de gallo and shreds of lettuce. The tortilla is the key to its success, and this one is thick and full of husky corn flavor, standing up to the weight of the other flavors nicely.

There are a few other especialidades. The best is a "parrillada" loaded with strips of steak, pork, slices of al pastor pork, bits of bacon, melted cheese and poblano peppers — all unrecognizably chopped and smeared over two corn tortillas. A similar concoction the restaurant calls "ranchero" is a mushy mash of nopal (cactus paddle), mushrooms, cheese, poblano, onions and pineapple that turns too sweet and too gooey after a bite and a half.

But the tacos are what to go for, and they cover Mexico from sea to shining sea — the yum factor of fish tacos made of battered tilapia and creamy arbol salsa is trumped only by the baja (lightly breaded shrimp tossed with a smoky chipotle). And while a taco filled with pork and mole verde with pumpkin seeds gets a little gruesome looking, it tastes muy bien. Like the pre-fab desserts, Zocalo Taqueria's horchata — a mixed drink — tastes like what bathroom cleaner smells like. The margaritas come from a swirly machine, and taste like apple-flavored cotton candy.

But Mexican beers are served from a cooler at the counter, and on a warm evening, a Tecate goes down well with a few tacos and the company of good friends.