I have made no secret of my love for the glorious taco. But it is not a boundless love. It has boundaries.

Case in point - I have been to Taqueria Los Ocampos, in the Midtown Global Market, at least a dozen times, and probably more. And I have never, ever, ever ordered a taco. Not even a gordita. And that is because they sell the huarachazo.

How do I love the huarachazo? From the bottom up. The base of the huarachazo is a grilled, bean-filled oval of masa. It's like a soft, crispy paratha, with the beans sandwiched in the middle of the delicious corn cake.

The next layer is the traditional "choice of meat", which does not necessarily have to be meat. Nine times out of ten, I go with the al pastor. It's not too spicy, but it's richly flavored, crispy, slightly fatty pork.

Then we have the toppings. A bit of queso fresco, a squiggle of crema, some onions, fresh tomato, and radish. Just what you need to set off the starchy cake and the rich meat. And then, nearly gilding the lily, a few giant fucking slices of ripe avocado.

It is near-perfect. The only way it would be even better is if it had a couple of handles you could use to pick it up and eat it with. Alternately, and it may well be served this way at the proper, non-stand Ocampo across the street, if it were served on a plate with a metal fork, instead of on paper on a foam plate with a plastic fork, which makes it more difficult to get all the layers in one bite.

Even with those caveats, though, I could eat this all fucking day.