Andy Starnes, Post-Gazette Taqueria Taco Loco owner Edgar Alvarez holds Pastor Taco (marinated pork) at the South Side restaurant.

Munch swears to it: Taco Loco actually exists. Just don't let the second word in this headline fool you. Goes undersells the task of getting there, which is why Munch, your civic-minded First Amendment guardian, now provides some directions.

Head east on East Carson Street. Make a right onto 27th Street. Keep driving. Disregard the (usually accurate) notion that food quality degenerates as the main South Side strip recedes. Keep driving. Check the gas gauge; refill if necessary. Brave the adventures and off-the-map obstacles. If necessary, cleave the limbs of a black knight. Cut down a tree with a herring. Don't lose confidence -- you're driving the right way. Watch for the intersection of Jane Street and turn left into a small parking lot across from a warehouse. Take note of the dim film noir lights. Mexican lovers, here's your grail.

Taqueria Taco Loco owes its appeal, in part, to its seclusion. Before you huff down its plates of authentic Mexicano cocina -- you won't find sauce-drawn cacti on these burritos -- you already feel some measure of button-bursting pride. You're a Pittsburgh insider, after all, privy to a secret. Even writing about Taco Loco feels somewhat wrong, like publishing a treasure map.

But if you savor Mexican food, make the trip. Better yet, if you want redefined Mexican food, make the trip.

There's a difference, it turns out, between your standard-definition Don Pablo grub -- margarita happy hours and smothered nacho plates -- and genuine taqueria food. We're talking new shapes, new sights, plenty of surprises. Munch ordered a chicken gordita, for instance. You're probably picturing, as Munch did, the Taco Bell archetype: a taco with a softer, thicker shell.

But Taco Loco's gordita is a revelation. The ingredients -- we'll get to those in a second -- are tossed atop an open-faced doughy roll, sweet like a pastry, some six inches in diameter. There's chicken on top, pulled into chunks and zested into an orange-yellow color. Some lettuce, onion and cilantro form the next layer. Crumbled cheese adds the final flecks of color. This little yin-and-yang of sweet and salt, by the way, cost $3.75.

So Munch recommends mixing and matching. Quesadillas go for $2.50; tacos are $2.25, give or take a quarter for toppings; tostadas will set you back $3.50. Pick three from that assortment, and you have a full meal. Some heartier entrees await for those who'd prefer a fajita or an enchilada plate, but Munch found joy in the experimentation. The carnitas taco? Served open face and dressed lightly, as if trying to make a statement with its sparseness. After the meat, you get onions and cilantro -- nothing more.

Friend of Munch decided on a heftier entree, the Enchiladas de Mole ($12.95) -- a true litmus test of Mexican food. Mole sauce presents an inherent risk; it's heavy and brown, a combination of dried chili peppers, spices and -- get this -- chocolate. When mole sauce doesn't taste right, it doesn't matter whether you have an enchilada underneath the goop or a Ferran Adria-prepared caramel-crusted quail egg. It won't taste right.

So FOM asked our waitress about the mole.

"Great," she said.

"Great," FOM said minutes later.

And that verdict became a chorus. We enjoyed the appetizer chips, served with a bowl of guac, topped with colorful lines of pepper and onion. We took note of the quirky decor -- booths that sit a little too high, tablecloths with roosters on them, big windows that provide vistas of the ... next-door warehouse. (Our one complaint: no liquor license.)

But, hey, you come here for something different. You can't stumble in, you can't happen on by, you can't trip into the front door during some Carson Street window-shopping.

You don't arrive at Taco Loco without knowing your destination. Munch felt smart to know it.

Taqueria Taco Loco is at 2700 Jane St., South Side. Call 412-488-8858.