Maybe it’s old age. As the stickered orange bottles multiply in the medicine cabinet, so does the escalating frequency of the question posed to my wife, “Feel like splitting an entree?” Through our warmer months, though, I am assuredly not the only one with a meeker appetite. It’s in these diminished times that Real Taqueria and a taco or two are imminent.
To be frank, I’ve rarely strayed beyond the tacos at Real. And no, before you ask, the stubborn singular insistence isn’t a further sign of my dotage. Simply put, when the tacos are exemplary, why wander? The lineup will appeal to many, safer selections like grilled pollo through lengua, and nopales. House-made salsas wend a similar path, a cooling avocado-based blend trough scorching arbol-fueled rojo.
While pina-topped pastor might seem like the manifest choice, all tropical sunshine – my favorite prep I return to over and over is the carne asada. Much like pizza, it’s hard to argue there’s a definitive version of the dish. Some say it’s as much a nebulous call to action as it is a defined preparation.

As is the case with the culinary traditions I’m most fond of, mandates come secondary (get outta here with your rules, Escoffier) to familial interpretations. Sonoran-style asada in the North might lean toward a focus on meat and mesquite, for example. Real Taqueria’s owners happen to hail from Zacatecas in Central Mexico, where marinades are more common, which is how the top Angus sirloin here is prepared.
Whatever goes into the mix, the result is stellar, a slight tang with that signature smoky embellishment boosted by good amounts of salt. Like the best tacos, it’s prepared simply; here with cilantro, and modestly grilled onions providing a little snap and sweetness. In these mercury boiling months prefer to fight fire with fire, so a good douse of the rojo salsa is a must, maybe a touch of the earthy guajillo salsa too.
It’s that perfect summery flavor memory, wrapped up in two corn tortillas. I routinely forget the overstuffed nature of the tacos at Real Taqueria, which, of course, I shouldn’t. I eat here repeatedly. One’s a decent snack for less than five bucks. Two’s a decent lunch, three’s a filling dinner.
Now, where are my slippers? It’s 7.00 p.m. already.
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Hi, I’m Stuart, nice to meet you! I’m the founder, writer and wrangler at Gastronomic SLC. I’m a multiple-award winning journalist and have written in myopic detail about the Salt Lake City dining scene for the better part of seventeen years.
I’ve worked extensively with multiple local publications from Visit Salt Lake to Salt Lake Magazine, not least helped to consult on national TV. Pause those credits, yep, that’s me! I’m also a former restaurant critic of more than five years, working for the Salt Lake Tribune. I’m largely fueled by a critical obsession with rice, alliteration and the use of big words I don’t understand. What they’re saying about me: “Not inaccurate”, “I thought he was older”, “I don’t share his feelings”.
Want to know more? This is why I am the way I am.
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Where is this place?
Apologies, it is” 1869 E Murray Holladay Rd, Holladay.