The birra tacos at this 12-seater went viral. We join the queue to see if they’re worth the hype

Mexican$$$$

When it comes to queueing for food at Sydney’s latest must-try cafe, bakery or restaurant, there are the “wills” and the “will-nots”. Those who will join the notoriously long lines outside Raineri’s Deli in Five Dock, Sundays in Bondi, or Eat at Robs in Rozelle; and those who will not, because there isn’t a sandwich, cinnamon scroll or smashburger that could ever be worth more than 10 minutes of their time.

But even the “wills” have limits – an internal countdown to the point of diminishing returns, when there’s no food in the world that can justify the time, boredom and hunger endured. It’s a common gripe in Google reviews, where diners bemoan a dish they might have otherwise enjoyed.

There were a few such comments written about Radio Taco, a casual 12-seat Mexican restaurant, after it opened in a Chippendale terrace (formerly home to Joy Fried Chicken) and attracted hour-long queues in October.

Footage of Radio Taco’s quesa birria had garnered over 100,000 views on TikTok: fried beef tacos dripping with cheese and consomme, served in a tiny dining room bathed in neon red light.

Radio Taco specialises in birria – a brothy meat stew, rich with dried chillies, garlic and spices. It comes from the state of Jalisco, in the wild west of Mexico (also known for mariachi bands, charreada rodeos and tequila). You’ve probably seen it before, served at taquerias including Olotl in Newtown, Mami’s in Bondi, and Papi’s Birria, which opened its third location in Darlinghurst in September.

Here, birria is offered with tacos, burritos, hot chips, nachos, rice and ramen; each available with beef, chicken or mushroom, and most options under $20.

By its second Saturday, the restaurant collapsed under the pressure of its own popularity, says Hector Valles, who co-owns Radio Taco with fellow Mexican-born hospitality professionals Pablo Galindo and head chef Aldo Larra, who previously worked at Rockpool Bar and Grill and The International.

“The whole team had come to work that day, and everyone was so happy,” says Valles. “Then we ran out of everything early, because we’d gone viral and everyone had come to see us. We failed them. We failed the people.”

The team won’t let it happen again. Valles said they quadrupled their number of staff and leased an off-site kitchen capable of cooking 500 kilograms of birria in a single day (they’re averaging closer to 200 kilograms daily, post-rush).

Still, I recommend arriving closer to opening. At 4.45pm on a Tuesday, we’re first to order at the counter, and score a stainless-steel table by the window.

It feels like an old school taqueria, straight out of Mexico City (Orinoco, anyone?), with cherry-red seating, hand-painted signage, and an open kitchen where chefs banter in fast Spanish. There’s a drinks dispenser serving agua fresca de jamaica (weaker than I remember in Mexico), and horchata (creamy, cinnamon-spiked perfection). Plus, a fridge filled with Jarritos soda.

On this visit, service is attentive, friendly and fast. It has the neighbourhood vibe Valles aimed for.

It’s a different story at lunchtime when the restaurant fills beyond capacity. The counter takes dine-in orders for people without tables, and table assignment is a free-for-all. We stand outside and watch diners for hints of movement (Did he just finish his drink? How long does it take to eat a burrito?).

The food, similarly, varies depending on demand. The flavours always hit, but tortillas naturally get soggy when delayed.

On a good day, the signature birria tacos are fresh off the grill, tortillas crisp and filled with an unctuous mixture of beef cheek, shin, chuck, shoulder, short ribs and oxtail. After eight hours of slow cooking in dried poblano, ancho and guajillo chilies, with a veritable spice cabinet worth of seasoning (cumin, coriander seeds, cinnamon and so on), it’s got that kind of delicious complexity that plays on your mind for days to come.

This sensation becomes amplified when tacos are ordered with a molten blend of Monterey Jack, chipotle cheddar, asadero and colby cheese, liberally squeezed with lime and dipped in birria consomme. Vegetarians can opt for enoki and shiitake mushrooms (hold the broth) with white onion and coriander, and somehow it’s just as good.

Order the house-made carrot macha salsa for extra heat; skip the ramen which, perplexingly, lacked the same punch as the standalone birra; and add a side of seasoned fries if hungry. The cinnamon churros arrive warm and crisp in a neat paper package, sweet but subtle, with dark chocolate sauce.

The birria has that kind of delicious complexity that plays on your mind for days to come.

Would it be nice if the tortillas were made on the spot, like they often are in Mexico? Sure. And would I have appreciated more heat from those chillies in the birria? Definitely. But these are strategic choices. Radio Taco aims for mass appeal, at a time when costs are tight.

If you’re not willing to queue for Radio Taco, you should be willing to wait for the crowds to ease off, or the restaurant to find its flow. There’s a reason people flock to places like this in Sydney, and it’s because we need more of them.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.

Restaurant reviews, news and the hottest openings served to your inbox.

Sign up