SOME THINK it’s one food masquerading as another, but I say a torta is something else. The canon is some iteration of a soft, flattish roll filled with beans, avocado, onions, tomato, and lettuce (usually jalapeños, too), and then meats and dairy products of your choosing. It’s everything I love about a burrito in a sandwich, and it’s beautiful, man.
Please note: This is not meant to serve as a comprehensive guide to every torta in our fair city, it is but a mere smattering of a dozen or so of the tortas I’ve eaten. Put down the Haterade, and let my gastronomic fortitude be your guide.
The Favorites
Los Alambres
The Gringa (ham, mozz, pineapple) is delicious, and their guajillo-salsa-dunked pambazos are very snackable—but if you care at all about happiness, order the Cubana. Mercury food alumnus Chris Onstad aptly dubbed it “The Dagwood.” Milanese (breaded and fried hamburger patty)? Check. Ham, a flap of scrambled egg, and not one, but TWO kinds of cheese? Indeed. Sliced hot dogs, head cheese, chorizo? YEPPITY. Any of these alone would do the trick, but they put it all together on a tender pan telera smeared with a salsa of chopped avocado, diced tomatoes, and shredded iceberg, and it is magnificent. Unbelievably, it all holds itself together, probably thanks to some Equilibrium Magick or other enchantments. 1134 SE 82nd & Portland Mercado, 7238 SE Foster
Güero
There are so many beautiful components to Güero’s tortas: creaminess provided by the beans, avocado, and crema; crispness brought by the bread’s toasted interior and bed of shaved cabbage; the tangy hot sauce and pickled onions with cooling crema and cotija. It’s a balancing act of textural contrasts, flawlessly performed by one sandwich. The omnivorous options are no slouches, either; pollo pibil is tender hunks of Draper Valley chicken cooked in a citrus-achiote slurry with banana leaf for herbal backdrop, and the carnitas is similarly well sourced and well executed. 113 SE 28th