For many years, there was only one ‘real’ Mexican taquería in Paris: Claudia and Alejandro’s El Nopal, which opened in 2010 near Canal Saint-Martin. The shoebox-sized takeaway amassed a cult following, proffering then unheard-of tortas and flautas that were later spotlighted on Action Bronson’s machismo “F*ck, That’s Delicious”.
Since then, attempts to upgrade Mexican dining in Paris have largely involved Frenchifying things by creating mildly spiced dishes and serving them inside the familiar, design-forward setting of a neo-bistro. Candelaria opened with a buzz in 2011 – a taquería and speakeasy that continues to attract young tequila lovers – followed by fusion spots like Tarántula and Luz Verde, all featuring ceviche, natural wines and frozen margaritas.
All of these represented a significant improvement upon the monstrous ‘French tacos’ that have been around since the early 2000s (uniquely diabolical wraps stuffed with fries and cheap cheese). Yet, while infinitely preferable to trying to digest a “smoky brunch protein cheat taco” from the ever-expanding O’Tacos chain, Paris’s ‘upscale’ Mexican offerings remain pretty subpar and generic (general consensus is that El Nopal has gone vastly downhill, its food now heavily adjusted for French palates).
London suffers from a similar affliction, with trendy taco joints drawing big queues but ultimately falling short. Growing up there, I regarded Wahaca as the sum total of authentic Mexican food, so I am not particularly well-versed in the cuisine. Luckily, I have friends hailing from Mexico, and plenty of opinionated Californians, to set me straight.
I have a soft spot for anything the Mokonuts team does, and Locomal is a fun addition to their family of neighbourhood spots
While Locomal shares the smart aesthetic of the city’s other fashionable Mexican restaurants, it is doing something that focuses more closely on regional cooking. It’s the third string in the bow of Mokonuts, run by Moko Hirayama and Omar Koreitem, whose flagship everyone has crushed on since day one, with its salty chocolate cookies and thoughtful plates of Japanese and North African cooking. Locomal has taken over the couple’s second address on rue de Charonne, which had been hosting rotating chefs and pop-ups as Mokoloco until earlier in 2026.
Chef José Oviedo worked at El Nopal in its infancy and spent time at the Bib Gourmand mum-and-son restaurant Alfonsina in Oaxaca while journeying through Mexico, before cooking at a Mokoloco pop-up at the start of 2026.
It was cheering to see chilaquiles on the brunch menu at Locomal. A dish that began as a way to use up stale tortillas, it has evolved into a comforting Mexican breakfast, hard to come by in Paris, and what my Californian dining partner calls her “hyperfixation meal” each time she goes home. I tried them during Locomal’s opening week, on a sweltering Paris day when the dining room was empty except for us and the three chefs at work in the open-plan kitchen.
The calmness was much in opposition to the riot of flavours on the plate. We were presented with two options, both rooted in central Mexican traditions: rojo – a punchy, Poblano-style red sauce coating crunchy corn chips, piled high with shredded chicken tinga, rich and unctuous in its adobo chilli sauce, a drizzle of soothing crème crue and buttery avocado wedges – and verde y huevo, which swapped the meat for a crispy-bottomed egg and a herbaceous green salsa that is common across Mexico City. We also tried the three classic salsas (habanero, jalapeño and chile de árbol), in turn grassy, fruity and smoulderingly hot, certainly not toned down for French palates.
The sweet option, a warm corncake served with thinly sliced preserved lemons, strawberries and almonds, was moreish and fudgy, and paired well with the cold, lightly whipped cream. Accompanied by a fuchsia-pink, vegetative watermelon agua fresca, the meal delivered a brilliant balance of textures, freshness and heat— a welcome change from the humdrum brunch à volonté you get in Paris, with its stale viennoiserie and lukewarm scrambled eggs.
Steak taco
Pork in a chile cascabel salsa with potatoes
Apricot and corn cake
Visiting for dinner a few weeks later saw a much more bustling affair. The space was packed to the rafters, with couples perched at the counter and a few groups of four seated at the back, next to a charming courtyard. Like brunch, the evening menu was fairly concise, though we found it a bit tricky to navigate. It was a slightly confusing mix of tacos, tostadas, ceviche, a single main course and a solitary dessert. We ended up ordering almost everything on offer.
I was anticipating the relaxed set-up of brunch, but dinner gave way to more fanciful plating. The guacamole arrived in a ’70s-style stack topped with padrón peppers. It was decent enough, but the real stars were the freshly fried tortilla chips, which we felt should have been refilled throughout the meal. Their take on the Sinaloan dish, aguachile negro, arrived next, and we were a little taken aback by its minute size for 17 euros, given that mackerel is an affordable fish. Still, it was sophisticated in its gently smoky simplicity and whiff of anise from dill fronds.
The octopus and corn tostada was the dish of the night. The octopus was cooked exquisitely, buttery and supple, and the whole dish was brought together by a rich chintextle-infused mayo (a savoury chilli paste originating, we learned, with the Mixe people of the Oaxacan mountains), all balanced by the nutty, earthy toasted tortilla. It was a salty dish, but we were assuaged by a cooling cucumber agua fresca and the cocktail of the day: a zippy, passionfruit-tequila mix that was juicy and fun. They also had micheladas, mezcal and three wines by the glass (all from the Loire).
Unfortunately, the bonito ceviche piled on top of a flour taco was less impressive. The fish was mostly overpowered by stewed black beans that needed more oomph, and the pico de gallo didn’t do enough to lift it. It was saved somewhat by the taco itself, which had been slightly caught on the press, its charred scars adding welcome texture and depth.
The steak taco, however, was a resounding success. Loaded with cheese, crispy baby potatoes, and a hefty portion of tender beef, it was thoroughly comforting in its richness. Similarly rustic was the main course: a substantial serving of pork (chicken was also an option) in a chile cascabel salsa with potatoes. The pork was juicy and melted under our knives, but the salsa lacked a little depth. It also called for more of the accompanying radicchio in its lemony herb dressing, or perhaps another verdant element to brighten the plate.
As at brunch, the dessert was an apricot and corn cake, which proved just as tasty the second time around, if not more so, offering a soothing cross between a tres leches and Basque cheesecake, ideal after the fiery dishes before it.
I have a soft spot for anything the Mokonuts team does, and I do think Locomal is a fun addition to their family of neighbourhood spots. There are a few niggles to smooth out (service was quite slow on both of my visits, and not all of the evening dishes were spot on), but I appreciate the range of ingredients on offer, as well as Oviedo’s passion and drive to keep shaking off Paris’s history of shoddy Mexican cooking. I will certainly return for brunch. But given that they serve tacos and tostadas starting at 5 pm, I suspect I’ll also drop back in with friends for a cocktail and more of those octopus tostadas before the full dinner service kicks off.
74 rue de Charonne
75011 Paris
France
August 2026
